


You're My Type On Paper

by Bellelaide



Series: Love Island AU [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: English National Team, Football | Soccer, Im screaming at this whole thing honestly, Love Island - Freeform, Love Island AU, M/M, Slow Burn, gay love island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-24 03:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15621957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: John Stones loses a bet and finds himself on Love Island. He's coupled up with Ross, but then in comes Kyle Walker - and John is more than a little bit conflicted about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this came out of nowhere in my head today and I just HAD to write it down. I wasn't planning to chapter it, but I know if I leave it sitting for days I'll end up never finishing it and this way, I'll feel pressured and I'll do it... so here! This is what I imagine would happen if Love Island ever got round to doing a gay series, and the people all happened to be the people who play for England. The first chapter here is just getting things started, but I have so many ideas for this - buckle up. 
> 
> This is bizarre, I'm bizarre, but you know what - yolo

Listen. Let there be no doubt about it - John hated reality TV. 

He hated it, okay. Big Brother, The X-Factor, even fucking Jeremy Kyle - John thought it was the basest form of entertainment, a smug and tasteless source of public humiliation. It was like the modern version of gladiator fights in Ancient Rome; people ripped to sheds for the amusement of the baying masses; entirely void of humanity and compassion. John hated reality TV. He hated what it stood for, hated the people that were both on it and into it. 

Everyone who knew John Stones knew how he felt about it. He’d walk into his mates houses for dinner and walk back out again at the sound of Simon Cowell’s voice. He’d go on hour long rants about how unfair Jeremy Kyle was - “It’s poking fun at working class people just because they have nout! 'Look how funny it is that this woman can’t afford dental care! Look at this jobless scum, crying on TV because they lost their mother to a fucking addiction!' That’s a medical condition that is, a fucking illness!” - so that was why no one could believe, for even half a second, that he had signed up to be on Love Island. 

John himself had been surprised that they’d even called him back after his initial application, and even more surprised when he was invited to the studio down in London, offered a contract, told he was going to be a Love Island 2018 cast member. He’d signed all the paper work in a kind of trance, internally cringing, wishing he didn’t have to do this. 

Because that was the thing; John had agreed he’d sign up for Love Island on a bet. A fucking bet! A bet he’d never expected to lose, granted. He’d been down the pub, drinking with his mates, and he’d betted Chris that he’d never be confident enough to approach a bird at the bar, nor have her react positively. Chris was a 23 year old virgin, and it brought the John and the boys great concern. Chris was happy enough, saying it’d happen when it happened, but John and the rest of his friends were worried - Chris deserved to know what sex felt like. It was just a pity he was too shy. 

Anyway, Chris had said he would approach the girl, and if she said yes to a date, John had to sign up for Love Island. Chris was fucking ugly in John’s opinion, so he wasn’t worried. He’d thrown his head back and laughed and said: go on then, I dare you. Now it was six months later, Chris had a girlfriend, and John was sat on an EasyJet to Mallorca. 

Fucking Love Island. John hated himself for getting caught up in this. He didn’t know what to expect, he’d never even fucking seen the thing! It’d been proving a ball ache to get the time off work until he’d explained he was going on Love Island and his manager had lit up like a Christmas tree and signed him off for three months. His job was shitty, he worked in a fucking call centre for a recruitment agency, but he’d miss his routine. He’d miss his family and friends too, god. He’d cried when his mam and dad dropped him at the airport. He was a total mummy’s boy, always had been. It was going to be hard leaving her for the summer. 

And then there was the whole... romance thing. The line up of men he’d have to come face to face with, the fact that he might meet his soulmate in the next few weeks. John laughed even as the thought crossed his mind. You didn’t find your soulmate on these shows, you found someone you thought you could sell products on Instagram with for a few months. This was going to be humiliating, frankly - the whole nation would see John try his hand at getting a man. He was no good at it, had terrible graft, could never keep anything going with anyone for longer than a few months. His mam said John could never tell when someone was no good for him, and so he always ended up with players and fuckboys. John thought he was just unlucky, but here he was - about to show the whole bloody country whether or not his mother’s theory was true.

John’s game plan was simple. Blend in, make no waves. Find someone equally boring and quiet to couple up with. Sent home at the first eviction, or whatever they called it, eventually pretending the whole debacle had never happened. John sat on the plane, earphones in, tanned and muscular as per his contract and thinking, hey - if this plane goes down right now, at least no one will ever see me making a twat of myself on national TV. 

—

John was the first one to be introduced on the show. A producer had counted down from thirty, listening into an ear piece, and then pushed him out of his waiting area down to the pool of the villa, where Caroline Flack was waiting in a playsuit and platform heels, grinning wildly. 

John had been told to ‘swagger in and stand on the marker’ but he couldn’t, just didn’t have it in him, so he walked in normally instead. They’d dressed him in a pair of fucking tiny light blue shorts - the normal trunks he’d brought had been confiscated on arrival - and a pair of black sliders. Someone had literally oiled him up, too, and he felt like a smoked sausage in a swimsuit. He made his way, taking in the place he’d be living for the next two months (two weeks, if he played his cards right) and hugged Caroline one armed, kissing her on the cheek. 

“Alright, Caroline?” He said, finding his marker and standing on it. 

“Hi, John. How you feeling?” 

“Nervous, if I’m honest,” he said, and she fake laughed. 

“You’ll be fine, don’t you worry.” Caroline turned to the camera. “Alright, time to welcome our next contestant - say hello to Harry.” 

John looked over at where he’d just entered, and in came a normal looking guy with dirty blonde slicked back hair, terrible mouth of teeth on him, similar tiny shorts to John’s and slides. This guy didn’t swagger in either, looking pretty chill and maybe even as uncomfortable as John. John decided he liked him. 

Harry followed the same protocol as John, and then Caroline was looking at the camera again - “So now we have John from Barnsley and Harry from Walthamstow - shall we have another? Ladies and gentlemen, meet Ruben.” 

The next bloke did swagger in, but to be fair to him, it was warranted. He was stunning, and John only regretted that under the current format - five starting contestants to be matched with five more in a second - he couldn’t couple up with Ruben himself. The guy was a god, made John look like a bloody bog brush. He oozed confidence and sexiness. John couldn’t help the low whistle that emanated from his mouth, and Caroline, who heard it, turned and said “Would you like a bit of Ruben, John?” And John blushed and told himself to remember that there were cameras EVERYWHERE. 

“Next up, it’s Eric!” 

In walked an average looking lad. Eric seemed kind of goofy, John decided, and he had to stifle a laugh when the guy tried to do an exaggerated jump down off the second step to the mark and stumbled a bit, folding on his ankle. Everyone looked around to see if they’d have to reshoot but someone hissed “KEEP GOING” behind them and Caroline leapt into action. 

“Phwoar, Eric, you’re excited!” She laughed, and Eric hobbled to his marker, not meeting the eyes of the rest of the guys. “Alright, last but not least - meet Jesse!” 

The guy walked in with a definite swagger, holding his hands up in front of his face in some kind of bizarre gang symbol or something. “J-L, Jesse Lingard,” he explained to Caroline at the bottom of the steps, and she laughed awkwardly and sent him to his marker. 

“Alright, so we have John, Harry, Ruben, Eric and Jesse - how you doing boys?” They mumbled their responses, and Caroline just stood there smiling. John thought it looked like it hurt. “So now, we’re going to meet five more guys. They’re going to get the chance to couple up with whoever steps forward for them - so boys, don’t be shy! You can choose to step forward more than once, but you’ll be finishing with one partner - so choose wisely. Okay, are you ready?” 

“Let’s have it!” Ruben said confidently, and Caroline turned back to the camera. 

“Here’s Gareth Southgate.” In walked an older looking bloke, John thought, wearing - was that a waist coat?! John couldn’t help but laugh, and the other lads did too, and Gareth was a sport about it, spinning around like he was on a runway when he reached his marker in front of the five men. “Welcome, Gareth. Alright boys - step forward if you like what you see.” 

John wasn’t looking for a daddy, so he respectfully stayed put, but Harry next to him stepped forward and so did Jesse. Gareth seemed flattered, even with only two options, and he eventually picked Harry, stating that he “liked the colour of Harry’s eyes.” They shook hands and stood side by side, and there was the first provisional couple of the villa. 

Next in was a lad called Jordan (“Hendo, call me Hendo”) who Ruben stood forward for - the rest of the lads didn’t even bother to compete against him. John hadn’t stepped forward yet, and he was a bit scared that he’d get stuck with the last person to come in, no choice in the matter. He needn’t have worried because at that moment in came a lad called Ross. 

John instantly thought that he looked like a bit of a bad boy, and he fancied him plenty just off first impressions. He’d definitely step forward, yeah. Ross was John’s type on paper. 

So he did, and so did Ruben - poor Hendo - and even Jesse did - but Ross had looked right at John, winked, and said “I’ll go with that one, Caroline love.” He’d walked over confidently and grinned at John, putting a hand on his shoulder, and John had all but melted into him, grinning right back, biting his lip a little bit. So John was coupled, and it wasn’t all that bad - this guy was hot; he could get a bit of fun out of this at the very least. Love Island was ridiculous but if John could be shacked up with this hunk, he could make it work. 

“So, that leaves Eric and Jesse still single, whilst John and Ross, Harry and Gareth and Ruben and Hendo are - for the time being - coupled. Let’s throw in another one! Britain, say hello to Dele.” 

In came one of the most beautiful people John had ever seen - but not beautiful like Ruben, beautiful like a super model; striking in a unique way. Ruben stepped forward again, and so did Eric and Jesse. 

Dele deliberated for ages, looking between the three of them pensively, before deciding on Jesse. “I’ll go with Jesse, Caroline. I like his smile.” 

“Alright, gentlemen! That leaves one more islander - Eric, if no one else steps forward, you will be automatically coupled with this person. You ready?” Eric nodded apprehensively. “Finally, it’s Jordan number two - Mr Jordan Pickford!” 

John raised his eyebrows as he watched the biggest chav he’d ever seen bounce down the steps, pumping his fists in the air despite there being no music and shouting “Let’s av it!” at Caroline Flack. John imagined that Jordan Pickford’s VT was just him raving in a pair of nike air max and some sunglasses, talking about giving no fucks what anyone thinks and being the life and soul of the party. 

Eric was the only one who stepped forward, and so, with that, the first couplings of Love Island 2018 were solidified. 

“So it’s official - we have our first couples. Let the games begin - it’s going to be a long, hot, summer.” 

And so the show had begun - John turned to Ross, smiled warmly, and said “Let’s do this then, shall we?” 

— 

The camera crews had cleared out and left the boys to their own devices, to mingle and get to know each other. It was scorching hot, and John would’ve burned had he not already been working on his tan prior to the show (‘you must undergo at least 28 hours of sunbed time prior to arrival in Mallorca’, his contract had said. Looking at Jordan, who was as white as a sheet, John wondered if that clause was unique to him only). 

They’d all ambled towards the villa together, Gareth naturally assuming the role of the boss and leading the way to the bedroom door. They fought for the beds, John and Ross managing to get the one next to the wall which meant marginally more privacy. Their suitcases would be delivered soon and all they had to do was drink beer and mingle. 

John and Ross wandered down to the pool, sitting down in the beanbags on the deck. 

“This is mad this,” John remarked, trying his best not to think about the cameras. “Feels like living in a fish bowl.” 

Ross laughed. “It is a bit yeah. This is crazy, being here, innit? Did not think I had a chance in hell of getting picked, but like - did you see that Jordan lad? Standards can’t have been too high,” he said cheekily, grinning at John. 

John laughed, but he felt bad about that. Jordan was daft but he wasn’t ugly or unworthy of his place on the show. Plus, they didn’t know him yet. Ross was out of order, but John didn’t want to pick fights. He changed the subject. 

“I didn’t think I’d get on either. Signed up on a bet,” John laughed, and Ross was incredulous. 

“A bet?! Fuck sake, that’s rough. You’re wild, you. Fate though, don’t you reckon?” 

John smiled, his eyes drinking in the way Ross looked, all hard lines and muscles and tan skin. He wondered if they’d made Ross go on the sunbeds. “Yeah, definitely fate.” 

— 

The whole thing was a whirlwind. John was overwhelmed with people and names and personalities - Harry, he had discovered, was a quiet personal trainer from London who had probably never broken a rule in his life. Gareth was a retired police officer who had taken the waistcoat off eventually and seemed like a good laugh, but stern when needed - Jordan Pickford had drank three Coronas and jumped on the cooker screaming “Get the fucking rave on!” And Gareth had pulled him down before security could, hissing in his ear and clapping his cheek to bring some sense to him. Gareth had ordered Eric to put Jordan to bed for a nap, sleep off his excitement, and John pinned Gareth as the Villa Parent. He and Harry were probably going to be a good match. 

Eric, Jesse and Dele had clicked pretty quickly, having a similar sense of humour, and they’d found out all they all were in Ibiza around the same time when they were 18 and spent ages retelling stories about that. John and Ross sat at the fire pit with Ruben and Hendo and spoke about boxing for a while. It was nice, but John was a little bored - he’d have liked to have sat with Eric and them for a bit, but he couldn’t picture them interacting with Ross very much for some reason, and he didn’t want to be apart from him so early on. 

Ross was cool, John liked him. He was quietly confident, down to earth. He sat next to John with his arm slung over the back of the chair and his legs spread wide and John could see that this was a man who was comfortable in his own skin, relaxed and at ease with himself. John wanted to fuck him, he was sure of it. Whether they’d get along in the quiet moments, in the Sunday morning tea and sausage sandwich moments, John wasn’t sure - but this was the point of the programme, he supposed. To figure those things out. Ross was a car salesman and John could picture him easily in a suit and tie, charming rich men and women into paying inordinate amounts of money for posh cars that looked fancy sitting in their driveways. 

Harry and Gareth had wandered over eventually, sitting down on the long seat next to the fire pit, and Gareth had smirked and said “What’s this then, the good looking club?” and Ross had leaned over to John’s ear and whispered “If it were, those two wouldn’t fucking be here,” and John grimaced and hoped the mic hadn’t picked it up. 

“So then lads - opinions on football?” Harry asked, and they’d erupted into a debate about different teams and managers, John finally feeling properly engaged in the conversation. He was a Barnsley fan, obviously, and more widely liked Man City and Barca, whereas Ross was a proper Everton fan and loud about it. Their conversation attracted the other boys, Eric and Dele and Jesse, and they surrounded the pit too, Eric and Dele teasing each other about it - “You definitely don’t know anything about football,” (Dier) “Yes I do, I play FIFA all the time!” (Dele). 

Eventually they moved inside and got showered and dressed in proper clothes, waking Jordan up too. Thankfully the guy was a bit more subdued after his nap, going quietly to the shower and coming back looking a bit pink in the cheeks despite having only been in the sun for two hours, tops. The producers were throwing them a welcoming party - there would be music, booze and food and they had been advised to dress up. 

John was one of the first ones ready, letting his hair dry naturally after the shower. He chose a blue shirt and grey shorts, a pair of white converse. Ross was taking ages, and John ended up dancing up and down the isle in the bedroom whilst Dele sang ‘Like A Virgin’ by Madonna, Eric tapping out a beat against the wall. John was in his element, laughing and joking, vogueing like his mam had taught him at all the parties growing up. Someone pushed past him a bit aggressively and he had been astonished to look around and see that it had been Ross, who was now bending over his suitcase and folding something. 

John stopped and so did Dele, falling quiet. He looked at Eric who tightened his neck in a grimace. John went to Ross, standing beside him at the edge of the bed. “Y’alright?” he asked breezily, worried that he’d done something to annoy Ross. Ross didn’t look at John, but he nodded and zipped up his suitcase. 

“Shall we go out and find some booze?” He asked, heading out into the garden. John didn’t know why, but he had an uneasy feeling in his stomach. He followed Ross anyway. 

— 

Ross warmed up again a little bit later. John put his coldness earlier down to hunger or something, deciding to ignore it and have a good night. They were playing some great tunes and the more he drank, the more he knew he’d be up dancing before the end of the night, cameras be damned. 

He sat beside Ross at the table and tried to get involved in a conversation Ross was having with Gareth about the newest Audi range, but every time he opened his mouth Ross spoke over him. He got up and walked away eventually, coming to sit next to Jordan and Eric who were trying really hard to find something in common. 

Apparently, there weren’t many options. The pair had just fallen into another conversational lull when John took pity on them and said “Either of you play Fortnite?” both of the boys had lit up when they realised that they indeed did both play Fortnite, and Eric mouthed ‘THANK YOU’ at John when Jordan got up for a pee. 

Controlla by Drake started playing, and John just had to get up and dance. He noticed Ruben shout “YES!” at the opening keys and so pulled him up to dance too. Eventually the rest of them joined, the alcohol and the excitement carrying them along, only Gareth, Ross and Jordan sitting it out. Jordan got up when Calvin Harris came on next, but Gareth and Ross stayed sat down, even despite John’s efforts to pull them up. Okay, so Ross wasn’t a dancer or an exhibitionist - that was fine, John supposed. He could make it work. 

He could have made it work, that was, until Ross had pulled him aside a little later, judgement clear across his features. “John, have you had too much to drink?” He asked quietly. John frowned, confused. 

“Eh? No, I’m perfectly alright - why, am I making an arse of meself?” 

“No, no, I just… all the dancing and that, in the bedroom before. I just don’t want you to do anything you’d regret on TV.” 

Stupidly, John could feel tears prickling behind his eyes. Ross had basically just told him he was being embarrassing, that he was making a fool of himself - if Ross was having to pull him to the side and do this, then it must’ve been bad. Jordan on the cooker shouting bad. John tried not to cry. 

“Fuck, okay, thank you, bud,” he said, looking over at the guys who were still dancing around. They did look kind of silly, John thought, but mostly just like they were having lots of fun. He shook his head and looked at his watch. “You know what, I think I’ll go to me kip. First night and that, I’m well tired.” 

Ross smiled and replied that he’d go too, and they said goodnight to Gareth and some of the others who were paying attention. As they were leaving, John noticed Eric and Dele whispering in each other’s ears in the smoking area, and he grinned. They’d be nice together, he mused. 

John and Ross brushed their teeth side by side in the bathroom, joking about how domestic it was. Ross had made a joke about John washing his clothes for him and John had laughed freely, an eye crinkler, and Ross got all serious and stepped into John’s space and whispered “You have a beautiful smile,” then kissed him, right there in the bathroom with their mouths minty and fresh. Ross was a good kisser, although somewhat aggressive with the tongue action. It was fine, John thought. These were things that could be taught and changed. 

They slid into bed together and kissed a little bit more, and Ross spooned John to sleep and John tried to ignore the warning signs going off in his tummy, instead thinking about how warm and firm Ross was behind him, how good he smelled. 

—

 

John felt better the next day. He was more refreshed and relaxed, and he brought Ross tea in bed. Gareth and Harry made omelettes for everyone, which John thought was far too kind of them. They all ate at the long table and then began another day of getting to know each other, of finding out if their couplings were suitable. 

They swam and worked out a bit in the gym, had a game of water polo, sunbathed. Jordan and Eric had been following each other around awkwardly until Jordan started whining that he was getting burnt and went inside, and Eric had plonked himself down beside John and Ross, biting his nails until he blurted “We have fuck all to talk about!” John tried to talk Eric round, but he had to admit it himself - there was no chemistry. Eric was craning his neck around, searching for something, and then had shot up and marched away, joining Dele and Jesse on the day beds. 

“I think Eric likes that Dele kid,” John had said quietly to Ross, smiling fondly. 

“Eh?” 

“Look at them, he’s gone right over there -“ 

“Nah, which one’s Dele again?” Ross said, frowning at John from behind his glasses. “Terrible with names, me.” 

“You spoke to him last night about his grandparents? Remember, his grandad was an Everton fan too?” 

Ross frowned and shrugged.

John had to walk away, pretending he was thirsty. Really he was just a bit concerned that Ross was turning out to be a teeny tiny bit of a twat. 

—

After lunch, Hendo shouted that he had a text, and they’d all been sent to do a challenge a little ways away from the villa - it involved balloons and whipped cream, and Harry and Gareth won it, earning themselves a dinner date in the local town. 

They got back to the villa and Ross was charming again, paying John lots of attention through dinner and being funny and witty. John remembered why he’d been so attracted to him yesterday, and told himself to stop getting so in his own head about this. He wasn’t going to fucking marry Ross, he wasn’t looking for a soul mate - he just needed to be attracted to Ross, get through a couple days of living in Spain, then he’d be home and back to his life. Ross and John kissed a lot that night, and John thought that if there weren’t cameras everywhere he’d have blown him in about three different places already. 

Ruben and Hendo were just as into each other, despite not having much to talk about themselves. John was turned on just watching the two of them together, they were so good looking. Jesse and Dele were getting along nicely, but the whole thing was a little bit forced. John wondered if Dele was into Eric too, or if Eric would end up getting his heart broken. John hoped not. 

The third day passed without event. John wondered what the fuck they were putting on TV, because as far as he could tell, there was no drama happening, nothing too interesting. He’d woken up to Ross pressing a hard on into his arse that morning, and he was shamefully turned on by it, pressing back against him and entwining their fingers under the covers - until Ross had turned over and shouted “FUCKING SHUT UP WILL YOU?” at Jordan, who was excitedly humming a Scooter song under his breath whilst he made his bed. 

Jordan and Eric had been sent on a lunch date that day, and when they’d come back they were more distant from each other than ever. John sat down with Jordan and asked him if he was okay, and Jordan had looked into John’s eyes and said “Help me, he’s so fucking boring, he is not a bit of me John,” and John was just relieved that Jordan wasn’t falling into unrequited love. 

The fourth day in the villa, they did a challenge where they had to guess who had said what in their application to the show. Eric had won. His prize was a fondue date for two. Jordan had simply looked relieved when Eric had said Dele’s name instead of his. 

On the fifth day, Ross had pinned John up against the wall under the stairs and kissed him breathless, then said “Let’s stick together, yeah? I really like you, John.” John couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no, and his body was definitely saying yes, the way it was pushing up against Ross in all the right places. 

They were laid in bed that night, waiting for whoever was last in the bathroom to turn off the lights, John lying in the crook of Ross’s arm, when Dele and Eric had walked confidently through the bedroom holding the spare bedsheets and gone out into the garden, calling goodnights over their shoulders. John shot up, looking at Jordan, who was obliviously asleep already, and Jesse, who shrugged at John and smiled. 

John settled down again in Ross’s arms, and enjoyed the quiet happiness he felt at knowing Eric and Dele were out there, making a go of it. John thought of his own coupling, and did his damnedest to ignore the doubt hiding in his gut. 

—

Before he knew it, a whole week had passed since John had found himself on this godforsaken show. He’d walked in on Harry giving Gareth a blow job in the showers and had screamed out loud - that was not something he ever wanted to see in this lifetime or the next, and he was thoroughly disturbed. Gareth was so much like a father, honestly, John did not need to see his meat in anyone’s mouth ever again. Dele and Eric had spoken to their official partners and had agreed to break things off, instead focussing on each other - and John had to admit that they were cute as fuck. There was always a torrent of conversation with them, a mutual silliness and sense of humour. John liked being around them and increasingly did so, much to Ross’s annoyance. Ross didn’t like Eric, he told John quietly on the sixth night. He was too immature, he’d said. John said nothing.

John was quiet on the week anniversary of their stay, and he couldn’t say exactly why. He felt a bit drained, a bit socially spent - he liked his own company, John, and being around all these people all the time was hard. He’d tried to explain that to Ross but he didn’t get it - ‘go and sit by yourself then’, he’d snapped, and John was scared that he might’ve offended him. He moped around instead with Dele and Eric and tried to be cheery and normal. He was swimming laps when Gareth had come to sit on the edge of the pool and called him over, looking a bit worried. 

“You alright, Stonesy?” He asked, using John’s nickname - it was supposed to make John feel nice, but all it did was make his stomach clench thinking about his friends at home. 

“Great Gareth mate, what’s up?” 

“You’ve been quiet today, s’all. Everything good?” 

John propped himself up on the side of the pool by the forearms. 

“I’m good, yeah. I’m a bit homesick like, to be perfectly honest, but I’m grand otherwise. How are you getting on? You seem really happy,” John tried to switch the conversation away from himself, and Gareth smiled tightly. 

“Harry’s great and I’m ecstatic - but John, listen. Don’t take this the wrong way or that, right, but - you seem different to when we first came in last week. Bit more self conscious or something, I dunno. Just, don’t get in your own head about the cameras and that, yeah mate? And - it might not be my place to say, but - don’t change just because Ross doesn’t like something, yeah? You’re nice together, don’t get me wrong. I just think he can be a bit… commanding, sometimes. I’m just looking out for you, lad.” 

John took that in, a bit baffled, a bit embarrassed. If Gareth could see it, could everyone watching them see that John was scared to embarrass Ross? That was embarrassing all of its own accord, and John didn’t want to come across as weak or that on telly. He thanked Gareth, sincerely, and got back to his laps, head spinning. 

— 

They were given a ‘white party’ that evening. Everyone had to wear head to toe white, and they’d eat white food and drink white wine. John wondered if it was all a bit unethical, but he didn’t say it out loud, because he didn’t want to cause any scandals. Plus, it wasn’t his place to think so, was it? 

John was half way through his second bottle of wine, sitting pressed into Ross watching Jordan dance maniacally with Jesse and Hendo when he caught Gareth’s eye across the fire pit and remembered what they’d talked about earlier. John looked around, took in the exquisite villa and the lovely men he was surrounded by, looked up at the stars twinkling even despite the glare of the lights strung up all over the villa garden. He wanted to dance, so badly. 

“Ross? Come and dance with us,” he whispered, nudging Ross gently with his shoulder. “Fuck it, c’mon.”

“No chance,” Ross huffed, shaking his head. “Not a dancer. Fucking embarrassing.” He tipped his head to where Hendo was flossing. “He’ll be one of those fucking memes by Thursday.” 

John stood up anyway. “Alright, well - I’m gonna go.” he strode away, grinning at the lads, cheering when Dele joined right after him, and winked over at Gareth, who nodded his head in approval. They were dancing and hooting and having a good time, John thought, feeling happily surprised - he thought he’d hate this whole thing, and he did to an extent… but the guys were so great, and the wine was so intoxicating, and this moment was a good one. 

They were in a circle watching Jordan do the worm when Eric had pointed over at the door and shouted “Oi, lads!” and John had spun around to see two guys walking in, dressed in white, smiling widely. 

Both of them were short, John noticed initially. One had short light brown hair and a pinched kind of face, plenty of tattoos, a bit of a beard. The other had tattoos of his own and a perfectly trimmed dark brown afro, a smattering of scruff across his chin, possibly the warmest smile John had ever seen. 

They all stopped dancing and went instead to greet the guys, surrounding them, Jordan and Jesse nosing in quicker than everyone else, desperate to find new matches. “Kieran,” John heard the lighter haired one say to Jordan. 

The other guy came to John, stretched out a hand, smiled a smile that had John forgetting how shitty he’d felt all day. “I’m Kyle Walker.” he said, and John took his hand, smiled back and thought to himself - ah, fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

The new arrivals were devoured by the group. It was nice to have some fresh meat, so to speak - new people to change up the dynamics of the group. 

Jordan had pulled Kieran over to the smoking area minutes after he arrived, lighting up a cigarette and handing him a beer and asking him rapid fire questions, desperate for things to work. 

Kyle had stayed with the larger group, and they’d all congregated around the kitchen island and were filling him in on what life was like in the villa, on the group dynamics. John thought that Kyle had probably been watching on the outside and he wondered how he was coming across, but he knew it was forbidden to ask anything along those lines. 

The first thing John really noticed was that Kyle was funny. Like, really funny, belly laugh funny. He couldn’t help it but to crack up at the things Kyle was saying, and the rest of the group were the same - but John was really getting a kick out of him. They soon started bantering about a night club in Manchester that they’d both been to, laughing hysterically upon realising that they’d both had run ins with the same bouncer. 

“He was like - I think you’ve had enough mate, and I was like - had enough? I’ve had two beers and a shot of sambucca! You let me in here last week keyed up on ket and told me to get some life in us, it’s a fuckin party! I thought if I get anymore lively mate I’ll be fuckin dead!” 

John laughed and laughed and Ross put an arm around his waist, leaning in closer. 

“And then, and then when you get past him he always says - “ 

“Remember boys - No Calvin Klein, no sixty nine!” They said in unison, laughing uproariously. Ross was stoney faced, eyeing Kyle quietly, his hand sitting possessive on John’s hip. 

“So, Kyle, what’s your type then?” Ruben asked, trying to bring the conversation back to the group from where it had settled between John and Kyle.

“Honestly, I don’t have one. Just whoever I click with, like. My ex was blonde, so maybe I’m looking for a brunette this time. Who knows, eh?” 

“Well so far it’s just Jordan and Jesse here who aren’t coupled up,” Dele said, patting Jesse on the back. “Me and Eric aren’t officially together but we’re planning to couple at the next opportunity.” 

“Yeah, fuckin dumped me didn’t you mate?” Jesse teased, sticking out his bottom lip. “You can kip with me if you want Kyle, or there’s the sofa or the beds outside.” 

“Thanks bud, I’ll take you up on that - but I warn you, I’m an active sleeper.”

“We’ll manage,” Jesse grinned. Kyle smiled back, that lovely smile, and John felt a flash of jealousy. He realised that he wanted to be on the receiving end of that smile, and he resented Jesse for having the privilege. 

John turned abruptly away, deciding to meander over to the smoking area where Jordan and Kieran were having an in-depth conversation about the merits of hard style versus dubstep. Ross followed him and they plopped down on the bench. 

“Do you think there’ll be a dumping soon then?” John asked Ross. “It’s funny cos I wanted to get sent home at the first opportunity and now it’s here I wouldn’t mind staying all that much.” 

Ross grinned. “Any reason why?” 

“Yeah. I’ve fallen in love with the way Gareth cooks his eggs.” 

Ross laughed. “Do you know how cute you are, John?” 

John could feel himself blushing. It was embarrassing. “Cute? That’s a new one.” 

“You are adorable, like. Propa little cutie.” Ross pinched his cheek and John laughed softly. Ross leaned in and they kissed a bit, slowly, as if they weren’t out in public.

“Get a fuckin room!” Jordan called, and John pulled away, looking bashful. 

“Alright, alright,” he said, hands up. Ross looked at Jordan with murderous eyes but said nothing, instead turning to Kieran. 

“Where you from?” He asked. 

— 

They decided to play never have I ever, circled around the big table. Not only did the game serve to get them drunk but they were finding out a lot about each other too - it was the best of both worlds. 

“Never have I ever... had a threesome.” Gareth, Ruben, Dele and Ross drank. 

“Never have I ever kissed a girl.” All of them drank to that. 

“Never have I ever cheated on someone?” Everyone was hesitant at that, looking around beadily to see who would show themselves to be untrustworthy. Resignedly Hendo drank, and then following his lead so did Ross - and everyone oooed and made noise like it was a pantomime. 

Ross looked at John to gage his reaction, and John tried his best to school his features - he wasn’t going to marry this guy. He was never planning to be with him long term. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say; if he was supposed to soothe Ross with kind words about not caring what he’d done in the past, and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable in the silence until Kyle said “Never have I ever swallowed come!” 

John looked over at Kyle gratefully, and Kyle tipped his head in response. The game continued. 

That night, in bed, Ross palmed John through his shorts whilst they kissed in the dark and John did his best not to give it all up there and then, because he was a classy girl and he had to be patient. Plus, his mother was watching - good behaviour was non-negotiable. 

They fell asleep entwined and beer drunk and, John supposed, happy. 

— 

John was always awake first, and always made Ross a cup of tea first thing in the morning. When he wandered bleary eyed into the kitchen, he was surprised to find Kyle there already, coffee in front of him. 

“Morning lad,” Kyle said cheerfully. “Sleep well?” 

John nodded and stretched. “Yeah, beautifully. What about you, first night in the villa?” He busied about with the kettle, finding two mugs and some tea bags. 

“Like a log! Those beds are right nice aren’t they?” 

“Big marshmallows,” John said in agreement. 

They fell into a comfortable silence for a bit, then John looked up at Kyle again. “So, what do you think about Jesse?” 

Kyle blew out air thoughtfully. “Honestly? Lovely lad, really nice. But I dunno if he’s for me. I’ll have to give it time though, won’t I? Only been one night.” 

“Yeah, yeah, definitely. Early days.” 

“You happy with Ross?” 

John looked down, suddenly very focussed on squeezing the tea bags against the side of the cups. “Yeah, he’s really nice. Right like him.” 

“Yeah? I’m glad then, that’s good.” 

John said nothing, just poured milk into the cups and lifted them up, ready for transportation. He smiled and nodded at Kyle and turned to leave, but Kyle spoke. “John?” 

“Kyle?” 

“If I were there on the first day, I’d definitely have gone for you. If you’d stepped forward, like.” 

John didn’t know what to say, so he smiled sheepishly and made his way to the bedroom, his heart thumping. 

— 

Kyle and Kieran got texts a couple hours later telling them they could take an islander of their choice on a date that evening. Kieran picked Jordan, which was nice. Kyle had deliberated for a second and then said “You know what, fuck it, m’only here once - John.” 

John was sure he heard Dele snort behind him somewhere, but it could’ve been Hendo too. He was at once excited and torn - excited because he liked Kyle, and wanted to get to know him, and torn because he knew this would make Ross uncomfortable. 

Ross had gone rigid where he was lying beside John. “Ey?” He said coldly, and tension abounded throughout the garden. 

“It’s just a game,” Kyle said, sensing Ross’s irritation. “Have to pick someone.” 

“Could it not have been Jesse? Did it have to be the bloke I’m coupled up with?” 

“Alright Ross, he had to pick someone -“ Gareth tried to interject, but he was drowned out by Kyle. 

“It could’ve been, yeah. But it isn’t. Alright?” 

“Nah, it’s not fucking alright. Bit snakey, if you ask me - you’ve only been here a few hours, already stepping on toes? Says everything about you, mate,” Ross snapped, and John put a hand on his chest in an attempt to relax him. 

“Ross, don’t worry about it, yeah? It’s just a dinner, right? Nothing to worry about,” he soothed, but Ross wasn’t having it. 

“Got my fucking eyes on you,” he hissed. 

Kyle scoffed. “Get a fucking grip.” 

Ross stood up, and Gareth really did intervene then, taking Kyle away from the group to diffuse the situation. Ross watched them leave and then threw himself down heavily, shaking his head, flexing his hands. 

“So fucking disrespectful! Did you all see that? Did anyone else just witness that clown trying to get John off me?” 

“Calm down will ya, for fuck sake,” Jordan called from where he was floating on a lilo in the pool. “He had to pick someone.” 

“Well, I don’t like his attitude,” Ross spat. 

“Try and keep the peace, right? John’s not going anywhere, are you John?” Said Harry, and John nodded and smiled reassuringly but inside he wasn’t actually one hundred percent sure. 

He looked over to Eric, who caught his eye and tilted his head as if to ask if he was okay. John nodded again and then retreated into his own head, thinking about what he was going to wear on his date. 

— 

The producers had arranged a lovely candlelit dinner on a roof top with stunning sunset views, overlooking rolling green Spanish hills for miles. The air smelled like a summer should - fragrant with flower pollen, cut grass, the smell of the earth after a long hot day. Fairy lights had been strung along the balcony creating a cosy and intimate vibe. They’d been served glasses of crisp champagne that exploded in John’s mouth like popping candy, followed by a delicious chicken and tomato dish that he had to find out the name of. He was half way through his own when he realised Kyle didn’t have chicken on his plate. 

“Oh - are you a veggie?” He asked through a mouthful of food, pointing at Kyle’s plate with his knife. 

“Vegan, actually. I know, I know, one of those people.” 

“No, god - that’s interesting that is. How do you manage? Dairy is everywhere man.” 

“It was hard at first but I’m used to it now. It makes me more conscious of how I eat, what I put into my body. I take it seriously, health and fitness and stuff. I’m a football coach, so it matters.” 

“What kind of footy do you coach?” 

“My local youth team. It’s an important business, youth football, people don’t take it seriously enough. It changes these lad’s lives. It’s the most rewarding thing.” 

“I agree with you, it can really take kids and give them opportunities and like, keep them out of trouble. I admire that, Kyle, that’s proper nice.” 

A waiter came and poured them more bubbles. John finished his meal, his stomach straining against the waist band of his shorts, and stretched out his legs under the table happily as he looked out across the vista. Kyle finished too and their plates were removed from the table. 

“This is the life, int it?” Kyle sighed happily, looking at John as he looked out at the view. “Pretty view, pretty man, good food.” 

John smiled bashfully down at his lap, sure a blush was making its way up his neck. He wasn’t thinking about Ross, not even a little bit - all he could think about was how nice the moment was. They began talking about John’s job and what he’d wanted to be when he was a kid, Kyle attentive and engaged, encouraging John to just talk and talk and talk. 

John didn’t even realise that he was yapping so much until one of the producers told them to wrap things up, and he noticed that the sun had fully gone down, their glasses were empty, the candle was burning low. He looked around himself and said “Fuck, have I been talking all that time?” 

Kyle laughed softly and shook his head no. “You’re fascinating. I could listen to you talk for hours.” 

“I’m not, honestly,” John mumbled, and Kyle tutted. 

“Don’t put yourself down! You’re brilliant. John, I’ll be blunt - I know you’re coupled up, but I like you. It’s early days but I think you’re cool. I just want you to keep that in mind.” 

John looked at him, at his kind brown eyes and his smooth skin, at the tattoos littered up and down his arms, and he wished Kyle had come in sooner. He’d sworn to Ross they’d stick together and John Stones was nothing if not big on loyalty. He sighed. 

“Thank you for choosing me, Kyle. This has been lovely. I’ve really had a great night.” 

They looked at each other for a beat and then Kyle pushed back his chair, waiting for John to rise too. They headed back to the villa feeling buzzed off the champagne, satisfyingly full, pretty content. 

— 

Ross was waiting for John at the door to the villa. He embraced John as soon as he saw him, not saying a word to Kyle who kept on walking right past them. 

“How was it?” Ross whispered into John’s neck, and John felt guilty for having had such a good time. 

“It was fine. Food was nice. C’mon, can we go into the garden?” John tried to pull away and head inside, but Ross held onto him. 

“D’you like him?” Ross asked, paranoia evident in his words. John’s stomach folded. 

“He’s nice, yeah. Nice lad.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I’m not gonna go sharing his bed tonight, Ross, if that’s what you’re asking,” John said. He was so uncomfortable and uneasy and just wanted to get back to the group. “C’mon, I wanna go see everyone.” 

John pulled Ross in the direction of the garden, where the group were congregated around the fire pit. Kyle looked up at John as he walked in, and John met his eyes for a moment before he had to drag them away, looking instead at where Jordan and Kieran were sat close, Jordan’s arm slung over Kieran’s shoulders. Their date had gone well too, then. John was jealous that they got to come back here and spend more time together. He resented this show and its whole set up. 

John sat down next to Eric, and Ross went to get them both beers from the fridge in the kitchen. Eric nudged John. “How’d it go?” 

“It was… lovely, Dier. Honestly, well nice. We really get along.” John looked up and saw that Kyle was staring at him across the way, not listening to whatever Harry was saying at him. John looked back down instantly. 

“What are you thinking?” Eric asked softly. John sighed, unsure of the answer. 

“I don’t know. I think I’m gonna have to -“ 

“Gonna have to what?” Ross was back, holding out a drink for John to take. John thanked him and moved up so that he could sit down next to him. 

“Ey? Nothing, we were eh… uh - “

“We were just talking about getting home and going back to work. I said I’m not sure if I’ll go back to me old job. Depends on how it all goes when we get out, doesn’t it?” 

Ross delved into a statement about Instagram being the future of sales work and John silently thanked Eric for the diversion. John looked at Ross, at his handsome profile and sure voice. He liked him so much, had rarely been so attracted to someone so soon after meeting them, but there was something… some warning bell ringing in his mind, telling him to be careful. John drank some of the beer, letting it add to his levels of tipsiness. He couldn’t let himself think too deeply about this, he decided. He was on a fucking reality show, for goodness sake. None of this was important. 

— 

Two hours later, the producers had thrown in a selection of games - they’d just finished a limbo competition, which Dele won and Gareth had nearly broken his back in, and then Ruben had picked up the Twister box and shouted “Right, Twister now!” 

John was good at Twister, always had been. He was flexible and lean and good at following instructions. 

“Yes!” John shouted, hopping up and down. “I am fuckin mint at Twister!” 

Kyle laughed from somewhere behind him. “I’ll bet you are, you’re built like a bloody whippet.”

“Piss off! I’m a sensational specimen of muscle and fury,” John laughed, flexing a bicep. 

“Course you are, big guy,” Kyle teased. “You saying you’re flexible, then?” 

“Might be. Nice and bendy, good at getting into position, all that.” 

Kyle looked John up and down and licked his lips. John had to look away before he popped a boner, biting the inside of his cheek to bring himself back to reality. 

Jesse unfolded the mat and Ruben spun the wheel and the game began. John was first with a right hand yellow, then it was Kyle with a left foot green. Jesse was playing too and had left hand blue, and a few moves later John was splayed out like a crab on the mat but it was Jesse and Kyle who were tangled up, Kyle’s face perilously close to Jesse’s crotch. 

Kyle was being funny about it, joking with Jesse that it was a good thing his dick was so tiny or he’d really be in trouble, and John was trying to laugh along with everyone but he was still strangely jealous. He craned his neck back to look at Ross, who was in a deep conversation with Hendo over by the day beds. John looked back at Kyle and Jesse who were getting on really well, and collapsed down onto the mat, deciding he’d had enough. 

Everyone watching groaned and Kyle shouted “I thought you were the master?! Terrible, John!” And John just shrugged sheepishly and stood up, straightening his clothes. 

“Evidently not, ey?” He walked away from the group, hopping up the steps and making a beeline for the house. John dashed past the beds in the bedroom, up the stairs and into the bathroom. He gripped onto the sides of the sink and exhaled deeply through his mouth, trying to give himself a shake. This was ridiculous! He had no right to be so jealous, so affected by seeing Kyle get along with someone else. John was with Ross. Ross, who was great and hot and who had picked John right back on day one. 

John ran the cold water tap and splashed some on his face, staring himself down in the mirror. He was preparing himself to rejoin the group when there was a knock on the bathroom door and Jordan stuck his head into the room. “Y’alright bud?” He asked, edging his way in. “Everything okay?” 

“Yeah mate, everything’s sound. Sorry, just not feeling great there, ey.” 

Jordan came in and sat down on the edge of the bath tub, crossing his arms. “Is it because of Ross and Hendo?” 

John frowned at Jordan, puzzled. “Because they were chatting?” 

“Well, yeah, but they looked right close. I just thought it was maybe pissing you off, you bolted out of the garden there.” 

John realised he couldn’t really have cared less if Ross had been sat there necking on with Hendo. He smiled at Jordan. “Nah, me and Ross are solid. Honestly just got a bit of a dicky tummy after that food earlier, all the champers and that. Thanks for checking on us though, mate.” 

Jordan smiled, seemingly placated. “You coming back down, then? We’re gonna do beer pong next.” 

John smiled. “Yeah, be down in a second. Just gonna have a slash.” 

Jordan returned to the garden and John slapped himself in the face a few times, telling himself furiously to get it together. 

— 

He rejoined the party. John attached himself to Ross’s side and just didn’t look too much at Kyle. They won a couple of rounds of beer pong but Gareth and Harry were the overall champions, Harry having a particular talent for aiming the ball. 

Things quietened down eventually, everyone slinking off to their own corners of the villa with their partners. John was watching Eric and Dele in the pool, Dele’s legs wrapped around Eric’s waist as they bobbed up and down in the water, deep in conversation, when Ross came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his middle, kissing his neck. “You ready for bed?” He asked gently. John pressed back against him. 

“Can we stay up for a bit and talk?” 

“I’m tired, can we talk in bed?” 

John thought that was kind of like a compromise, so he agreed. He took Ross’s hand and they got themselves ready for bed, brushing their teeth side by side and sliding under the covers of the air conditioned bedroom. Harry and Gareth had gone to bed earlier so the room was already in darkness, and they had to feel their way to their own bed carefully. 

John lay down on Ross’s chest and Ross absently ran his fingers across John’s back. John asked Ross what he had wanted to be when he was a kid, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Kyle earlier in the day. Ross grunted “What?” already half asleep. John just whispered back “nothing,” and lay there in the dark, thinking. 

He heard it when Ruben and Hendo came to bed - they kissed for ages, and the noises were groce - and then he heard Jordan and Kieran come in, and he was pretty sure they kissed too which was nice for them. It felt like ages before John heard Jesse and Kyle come into the room. He froze when they did, his heart thumping. He was irritated that they’d be sharing a bed again tonight, terrified of what he’d think and feel if he heard them going at it. They were whispering so quietly, John could just about make it out over the sound of his own heart beat. They did for ages, talking about god knows what, and Kyle accidentally let out a laugh at one point and John wanted to go and rip Jesse out of the bed and throw him off the edge of a cliff. 

He lay awake for ages, thinking about Ross and Kyle and how Eric and Dele had managed to be together but how it would be harder for him to change his mind, and then he remembered there were cameras all over the room - cameras that now had night vision footage of him lying in bed for close to two hours staring at nothing. He couldn’t even be sure he’d blinked in that time; people were going to think he was a fucking vampire. John squeezed his eyes shut and rolled over onto his side and prayed to God that the footage wasn’t aired and he wouldn’t be made into a bloody meme. 

— 

He woke early, as usual, and climbed out of bed quietly, making no noise as he slid out of the bedroom door and into the cool morning air. John stretched and yawned and ambled down to the kitchen, thinking he’d start cooking for the rest of the villa - Harry and Gareth deserved a morning off - and just about shat himself when a voice said softly “Morning, you.” 

John jumped and looked up at the offending voice - it was Kyle, perched on the counter, coffee in hand and face puffy with sleep. “Fuck, sorry,” he laughed, his eyes lighting up. “Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

John tried not to go red, he really did. He reached for the kettle and filled it up so he could make his tea, trying to compose himself. “You’re up early again,” he said, his back to Kyle. 

“Always an early riser, me. You too by the looks of it!” 

John turned around and faced him, trying to appear calm and collected. “Yeah. Can never get a decent lie in, does my head in.” 

“That’s shite. Were you alright last night, by the way? After Twister? You ran off,” Kyle said gently. John swallowed a grimace. 

“Bad stomach,” he said. The kettle clicked behind him and he turned to tend to it. 

“Maybe it was the chicken?” Kyle supplied, but he didn’t sound too convinced. 

“Stop trying to get me in on the vegan agenda,” John joked. 

“I was sent here by the cows to recruit you all. I’m starting with you because you’re the weakest. That chicken made you sick, John Stones, chicken is bad, no more chicken - “ 

“Shut the fuck up,” John laughed, and it felt good to do so, like dislodging a piece of stuck glass from somewhere in his heart. “You talk so much shite, you do.” 

“Stay off the birds or we’ll come for your family - “ 

“You’re a fuckin idiot - “ 

“We’re taking no prisoners - “ 

“Shut,” John cackled, “the fuck up - “ 

“John?” Kyle fell serious suddenly. “Come over here.” 

John stopped laughing, sensing a shift in Kyle’s mood. He picked up his mug and stepped over to the counter Kyle was sat on, his hip perilously close to Kyle’s knee. He was ever so slightly taller than him, and Kyle had to look up to maintain eye contact. John didn’t think about standing between his legs, he didn’t he didn’t he didn’t. 

“Would you be angry at me if I chose you in a recoupling?” Kyle asked softly, keeping his voice down. “You can say no. That’s why I’m asking, so I don’t do anything you don’t want to.” 

John’s mind exploded in a flurry of words and feelings but he said nothing, staring at Kyle awkwardly, words escaping him. 

“Kyle - “ 

“Just tell me what you want, and I’ll do that,” Kyle urged, and John had to close his eyes because looking into Kyle’s was doing him no favours, none at all. 

John took a deep breath. “I promised Ross,” he mumbled, hating himself for having to say it. 

Kyle put a hand on John’s upper arm, and John wanted so badly to touch him back, to feel if his skin was as soft as it looked. “It’s alright, I respect that, yeah?” 

John felt his own heart break as he looked at him, and he wanted to tell Kyle that he didn’t care if Kyle picked him because that was the name of the game, and he felt a connection between them that he wanted to explore, and - 

Henderson walked into the kitchen right then, freezing when he saw Kyle and John. John snapped away, picking up his tea and downing a burning gulp, not sure why he felt so guilty but feeling it anyway. “Morning lads,” Hendo said, eyeing them up. “Sleep well?” 

“Would’ve slept better if the sounds of a dog chewing a beetroot weren’t coming from your bed all night,” Kyle said, only half joking. 

“Yeah? Rich coming from you, was Jesse scared of the dark? He spent a lot of time under the covers last night,” Hendo quipped back, and Kyle’s face fell. 

John raised his eyebrows, staring straight ahead. He left his tea on the counter, turning and making a beeline for the bedroom without saying a word. He all but leapt on Ross, clambering under the covers and tucking his face into Ross’s neck, trying not to cry. 

“No tea this morning?” Ross asked sleepily. John shook his head no. “You’re getting too comfortable,” Ross replied, wrapping his arms around John’s back. John lay there for a while, until he couldn’t breathe anymore and he had to roll over. 

‘I’m not jealous’, he told himself over and over. ‘I’m not.’

— 

That afternoon, the producers had tasked Kyle with putting together a cast of islanders and performing the Full Monty. If they did it well, they’d win a party that night - and Kyle felt he was more than up to the challenge. 

He’d bounced out of the little diary room and told the rest of the group excitedly. He had to pick five people, he said. He chose Gareth, because of the waist coats; Ruben, because he was a snack; Dele, because he was also a snack; Jordan, because he was funny and John, because he was a good dancer. 

John looked at Ross on hearing his own name. Ross shook his head. “Don’t do it,” he mouthed at John. John looked around, torn - it sounded fun, but Ross wouldn’t be into it, and wasn’t it his opinion that mattered most? Jordan watched this exchange and piped up. 

“Come off it Ross, ya fuckin wet towel. John, come on, you have to win us a party,” and he tugged John by the arm in the direction of where the lads had gone to practice. 

— 

They’d been tasked with putting on a show, and put on a show they did. They executed the dance perfectly, all hips and abs and bowler hats. The rest of the lads whooped and cheered appropriately, Eric especially supportive of Dele. Ross was contained, just smiling and clapping along but clearly uncomfortable having John naked in front of everyone in the villa. John didn’t know whether to be flattered or concerned. 

Their show was a hit, especially when Jordan’s hat fell off his dick and he had to leap into the pool to conserve his modesty, and they got the news they’d been hoping for - they had a won a party. 

So a few hours later they were all happily drunk and enjoying the music being pumped in, drinking vodka this time instead of beer, and John was pressed up against Ross in a display of clingy affection as he tried hard not to think about Jesse and Kyle when Caroline walked in, and the party came to an abrupt halt. 

She gathered them all around the fire pit. No one spoke, everyone made nervous by her presence. John was uneasy, as he neither wanted to experience a recoupling nor go home, despite his original game plan. Caroline told them there was going to be a dumping followed by a recoupling - and their collective hearts sank. 

Kyle and Kieran were immune, given that they had entered late, and would also be the first to choose their new couples. With that in mind, Caroline began going around the circle, telling the boys their fate. The couples in the bottom two were: Ruben and Hendo, and Jesse and Dele. 

The group held their breath. This was horrible, John thought, much more uncomfortable than he could have first imagined. He couldn’t even find it in himself to be pleased that he and Ross had been saved - he was just staring, transfixed, as he thought about which of his new friends would be sent home first. 

Caroline made the announcement - going home was Hendo and Ruben. 

John was baffled. They’d been so solid, and Jesse and Dele didn’t even like each other - he’d secretly hoped Jesse would go so that he could stay away from Kyle, too. He was gutted, and they all swarmed around the losing couple, hugging them and saying their goodbyes. John did not miss it when Hendo grabbed Ross by the neck and whispered furiously in his ear, and Ross looked stonily at John and nodded. John made a mental note to ask him what that was about. 

They barely had time to say their goodbyes before they were ushered out of the villa, and Caroline delved into the recoupling. Making the choices were Kyle, Kieran, and the boys who hadn’t chosen last time - so John, Harry, Eric and Jesse. Kieran went first, choosing Jordan, to no one’s surprise. 

Then it was Kyle. John held his breath where he stood beside Caroline, wondering if Kyle would change his mind at the last minute and ignore John’s wishes. He didn’t know what he wanted more; for Kyle to make the decision for him or to leave him to his relationship with Ross. 

Kyle chose Jesse, and John’s heart sank, like it had any right to. 

Harry chose Gareth, Eric chose Dele. John chose Ross, finally. When he went to join Ross on the bench, he was cold and distant. Caroline said her own goodbyes and headed off and they all moved around, talking about the departure of Ruben and Hendo, about their new couples, and John asked Ross uneasily, “What’s wrong?” 

“Hendo told me to watch you and Kyle.” Ross said coldly. John’s stomach dropped, confusion spreading through him - was it because of that morning? Was Henderson for real? 

“Ross, what the fuck - “ 

“Let’s talk about it later, yeah?” Ross moved away, towards Harry and Gareth, and John tried not to fall apart in the middle of the garden. 

— 

They had continued to drink, because there wasn’t much else to do. Ross largely avoided John and John avoided everyone else, following Eric and Dele around until they politely asked him to stop being such a third wheel. 

John was pretty tipsy, and decided just to take himself to bed, deal with this shit tomorrow. He stumbled his way up the stairs, missing his mam and wishing she were here so he could know what to do, how to feel less alone. 

He was attempting to get toothpaste on his toothbrush for the fourth time when Kyle came into the bathroom and said “Need a hand there, Johnny?” 

John looked at Kyle in the mirror and smiled sadly. “Yes please,” he asked. Kyle came over and took the paste and brush out of his hands, their fingers brushing lightly. Every touch was magnified in John’s head, because he knew he shouldn’t be doing it. It was like being back at school and having a crush, so exaggerated and heady. 

He squeezed paste onto the brush and said “Open wide.” John did, and Kyle was brushing his teeth for him, paying special attention to each tooth, a smile playing around his lips. John just looked at him, standing there placidly. Eventually he brought a hand up and closed his fingers around Kyle’s wrist, helping to guide his hand around his mouth. He started trying to speak but it came out in a garbled mess so Kyle withdrew the toothbrush and asked him to repeat it, and John looked at him sadly with his white foamy mouth and said “I wish you picked me.” 

Kyle just stared at him, confused. “John - I asked you - “ 

“I know, I know you did, but I couldn’t - I can’t - “ 

Kyle brought a hand up to John’s neck and squeezed him there, eyes flickering between John’s eyes and his lips, and for a glorious, vodka hazed minute, John was sure Kyle was going to kiss him. The public was going to hate him and so was Ross and his mother would probably be ashamed but it was fine, because he wanted to kiss Kyle very badly - but instead Kyle placed a kiss to John’s cheek, stepping away and placing his toothbrush down on the sink. 

“I should go, yeah? I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Kyle turned and left, and John was still stood there, frozen, when Ross came looking for him, claiming he was tired and wanted to turn in. 

“Listen, about what Henderson said - “ John began, and Ross held a hand up to stop him. 

“I don’t care what your excuse is, but I’ll be honest John, I do think the boy fancies you. Can you do me a favour, yeah? Stop speaking to him, alright? Just - tell him to fuck off?” 

John gaped at Ross. This was the moment where he should’ve said no, he’ll do what he wants, he’s an adult. Instead, he blinked, said “Alright, Ross.” 

They didn’t cuddle that night, and John lay awake again, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what Ross had told him to do. He thought he’d probably look crazy again on TV, lying awake like this. He didn’t know that if he’d have been at home watching, he’d have seen that Kyle was doing the exact same, lying in his bed and staring into the darkness.

Sure, they looked crazy. But at least they looked crazy together.


	3. Chapter 3

John’s head hurt when he woke up the next morning. He desperately wanted to go for a glass of water and a pee, but he was scared of bumping into Kyle in the kitchen again. Scared because he’d made an idiot of himself last night, and also because of what Ross had said to him - stay away from Kyle. John wasn’t sure how to do that, or if he even wanted to. 

He lay there in the darkness of the bedroom and listened to the various different breathing of the islanders. His mouth was so dry and his bladder so full; nausea and sore eyes begging him for attention. Ross was fast asleep beside him, open mouthed on the pillow. John thought about waking him up but decided he didn’t want to talk to anyone right that minute. Instead, he pulled himself up slowly so as not to throw up, and peered across the room towards Kyle and Jesse’s bed. 

To his surprise, both of them were still in the bed, and even better - they were turned away from each other on opposite sides of the mattress. John carefully climbed out of bed, stumbling a bit, and made his way to the door in his boxers, pulling it open silently and slipping out. 

The sunshine was like a bloody flood light on a football pitch, and John was sure he was going to be blind now. He was going to be legally blind and done in, but at least he’d get to pick out a nice service dog, live off benefits for the rest of his life, maybe get a volunteer job teaching kids how to read braille. 

And then his eyes adjusted and his vision was in tact, who’d’ve believed it, and John was able to make his way down to the kitchen. He stopped off at the outside loos on the way and pissed for ages, and then he downed two pints of water in the kitchen and had to go and get rid of all that fluid too. He put the kettle on and leaned against the fridge, looking out over the villa as a new day began. 

John took his tea and plopped down on one of the beanbags near the pool. He sat there for a while, just thinking, and then he woke up to Ross poking him in the thigh with his foot and shaking his head at him. He must’ve fallen asleep, and he said as much to Ross, who just looked fed up. 

“You’ve been sitting here snoring for an hour. Gareth and Harry made breakfast, they saved you a plate if you want it.” 

John stretched. He got up ungracefully and squinted at Ross in the sunlight. “Ross, listen. I dunno what Henderson said to you, but there’s nothing going on between me and Kyle. I haven’t cheated or owt.” 

“I obviously have no way of knowing who’s telling me the truth John, so I’m going to have to take your word for it. Just, don’t ever mug me off, man, please.” 

John didn’t say anything in response but hugged him, wondering if what he’d said out loud to Kyle last night constituted mugging Ross off. That thought was better left unexplored. 

John went inside and showered, getting himself dressed in his red swimming trunks and covering himself in factor 50. He was on his way back to the garden when he passed Kyle on the stairs. Kyle grinned at him happily, stopping for a conversation. 

“Hungover, are we?” He asked, friendly enough. John smiled tightly and just pushed past, down the stairs and out the door. He felt like a twat, felt horrible - he wanted to go back there and joke it off with Kyle, laugh a little bit, ease up some of the pressure. Instead he collapsed onto one of the day beds, put on his sunglasses, and folded his arms across his chest with an angry grimace across his face. 

John kept quiet all day, doing his best to avoid Kyle. Whenever Kyle would walk into a room, John would walk out; and if he tried speaking to John, John cut him off with a word or a tight lipped smile and walked away. The confusion on Kyle’s face was devastating, and John himself was suffering - he wanted to talk to Kyle, to bask in the warm familiarity Kyle inspired in him. There was no one, not even Ross, that John liked to spend his time with more - and avoiding him was very difficult. 

They had a challenge to do in the afternoon, which John and Ross bombed because John was so hungover. It involved watermelons and a slip and slide and John just wasn’t in any state for it, his coordination terrible at best. Dele and Eric won, and their prize was a night in the hideaway - the private honeymoon suite designed to encourage islanders to get as intimate as they liked without the other islanders there to listen in. John was so endeared by the way that Eric and Dele looked at each other, like they couldn’t wait to be alone. John didn’t blame them; it was intense living with ten other human beings at once. Their connection seemed genuine and real and it made John happy. He clapped Dele on the back and winked at him knowingly, and Dele just smiled back, his happiness infectious. John wanted to feed off it, to share it with someone. He was ashamed that the first person he thought of was not Ross. 

They were making their way back to the villa when Kyle jogged to catch up with John, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You got a phobia of watermelons or something?” He teased playfully, trying hard to extend some sort of olive branch to John. John shrugged himself out of Kyle’s grip and murmured something about being hungover, before falling back and standing close to Ross, his eyes firmly on the ground. 

— 

Once back at the villa, the group scattered to do their own things before dinner. John was lying in bed, trying to doze off, his eyes closed against the bedroom lights, willing sleep to take him. He was on the cusp of unconsciousness when a voice somewhere above him said “Hey, John?” 

John opened one eye furiously, and his stomach twisted when he saw Kyle looking down at him. 

“I’m sorry mate, I know you’re trying to sleep, but just - can we talk?” 

John looked at the door, scared Ross would walk in and see them. He sat up slowly, back creaking, rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What’s up?”

“Why are you avoiding me? Have I done something?” 

John sighed, and he almost started laughing; not because it was funny but because he found the whole situation so awkward. “Er - I’m not avoiding you - “ 

“You definitely are.” 

“Alright, well. Ross thinks you’re into us and wants me to cool things off with you for a bit. It’s making him uncomfy so I thought - “ 

“He’s right, I am into you. But it’s a show called Love Island, not fucking loyalty island.” 

John looked up at Kyle with one brow raised. “You should go, before Ross comes in and sees us.” 

“I’m not scared of fucking Ross, mate, and you shouldn’t be either.” Kyle shook his head, snorted a laugh. “Enjoy your nap, John.” With that he left, letting the bedroom door bang shut behind him. John laid back down, but there was no fucking way he was getting to sleep after that. 

— 

They gathered around the table for dinner just as the sun was setting over the villa, the air cooling down into a pleasant evening temperate. John sat down beside Harry, across the table from Ross, who was looking decidedly handsome. John winked at him as he reached for the water jug and Ross winked back, looking cheeky. 

They descended into quiet individual conversations. John and Harry were talking about the benefits of cardio versus weight lifting, which Harry had a lot to say about. John felt a tap on his leg under the table and he looked up to see Ross staring at him, trying to hook their ankles together across the way. John enabled him, biting his lip at Ross, well aware of how it made him look. Ross mouthed ‘I want you’ at him and John’s eyes hit the deck, willing himself not to go red. When he looked back up Ross was in conversation with Kieran, but his feet were still tangled with John’s under the table. 

John looked toward the other end of the table. Dele and Eric were so close they might as well have been on top of each other, the tension between them tangible. They’d be given the keys to the hideaway at 8pm, and suffice to say - they could hardly wait. John’s eyes swung over Kyle - and then just as quickly, swung back again. 

Kyle and Jesse were leaned right into each other, bodies angled together, all but whispering and giggling like a pair of school boys. John glared at them, thinking - is Kyle stringing me along here? Is he saying the same things to Jesse that he’s saying to me? John was a rational man, and he knew this was completely unfair - but he couldn’t help the dragon of jealousy that was roaring in his chest; he couldn’t change how angry it made him watching Jesse’s smug little face monopolising all of Kyle’s time and attention. 

“John? John?” 

John looked around. Ross and Kieran were staring at him, as were Gareth and Jordan and Harry. He tuned back in to the rest of the table. “Sorry - yeah?” 

Ross frowned at him. “Gareth asked you if you like Taylor Swift.” 

John looked between Ross and Gareth like they were crazy. Fucking Taylor Swift? But they were waiting for an answer, so John shrugged. “I dunno - yeah? 22 is a tune.” 

Gareth delved back into his story about how much he loved her, talking about the new album. “Snakes was the theme. Her being a snake, being untrustworthy. It was genius.” 

“Snakes? Kyle knows a thing or two about snakes, don’t you, Kyle?” John asked, tipping his chin across the table at Kyle. 

Everyone went silent. Kyle just looked at John patiently. “You sure about that, John?” He said. John stared at him, wishing he would bite back, but knowing he wasn’t going to. 

Suddenly John pushed out of his seat angrily, causing his chair to fall over behind him. He stormed away from the table, throwing himself down on the beanbags facing the pool. He wanted Kyle to follow him, to coax a conversation out of him. He never did. 

— 

Once he’d calmed down, John helped the lads clear the table of plates and food, not saying anything to anyone and avoiding eye contact. 

Ross approached John wearily, placing a hand on his hip. “What was that about earlier, ey?” He asked, studying John’s face for an answer. 

“Nothing, honestly. Honest answer. I just lost it, watching Kyle and Jesse - “ 

“What do you care?” 

“No, I just - Kyle never said he was into Jesse, I just think he’s leading him on a bit. M’just looking out for Jesse.” 

Ross thought about that for a bit, but didn’t reply. He kissed John on the cheek instead and moved to do something else, something John didn’t care about too much. 

— 

Eric and Dele got the keys to the hideaway and went into it like just married lovers on a honeymoon, saying goodbye to the rest of the islanders and holding hands as they went. 

John and Ross laid in bed that night, facing each other, whispering. 

“Do you think they’ve shagged yet?” Ross asked, referring to Dele and Eric. 

John smiled happily. “Probably on their third round by now. Who do you think... you know?” 

“Dele takes it without a doubt. But actually, maybe they’re versatile. I could see that,” Ross mused. 

John kissed him in reply. They kissed slowly and lazily, and, with their breath held, John reached into Ross’s pants and got him off, both of them praying no one could hear the sounds of Ross’s heavy breathing or the bracelets on John’s wrist jangling up and down. 

After he’d come, Ross went to the bathroom to wipe off and then got back into bed and fell asleep. John lay there for a bit, pleased he’d gone another step with Ross, but unable to shake the thought that if that had been Kyle, he’d definitely have returned the favour. 

— 

John stayed in bed until Ross woke up the next day. They got ready together, moving around quietly. Kyle and Jordan were in the kitchen eating quietly when John and Ross entered. Kyle said good morning and John ignored him, but he caught a look of confusion on Jordan’s face. ‘Leave it,’ Kyle had muttered. John was glad that Jordan decided to listen. John had greek yoghurt and blueberries for breakfast and Ross ate a bit of garlic bread someone had left from last night’s dinner. 

The group milled around for the best part of the morning peacefully, all subdued and relaxed. Eventually Dele and Eric rejoined the group, wandering hand in hand into the garden. John couldn’t help but to smile when he saw them; they were so languid and happy, big grins and easy gaits. John thought it was remarkable how you could really see when people had slept together, the change in their body language. Dele and Dier knew each other now, John thought, knew each other in the most intimate and precious way imaginable. He was so unbelievably happy for them. 

John flopped down onto Ross’s chest and lay there happily, basking in the heat and listening to the sound of Ross’s heart beat in his chest. He drifted in and out of different daydreams, wondering how his family and friends were keeping, how he was being received by the public. 

Ross played with hair, which John loved, and he was ready to fall asleep when the shadow of a body fell across him and the sunlight was blocked. John opened his eyes and looked up to see Jordan, who was standing with his hands on his hips. “Can I steal you for a minute, Stonesy?” 

John groaned. “Can you just say it here, lad? I can’t be fucked getting up.” 

“Eh - I think we should have a word in private,” Jordan insisted. 

“No, go on, say it here,” Ross said next, a hint of aggression in his voice. “Let’s hear it?” 

Jordan looked away, and then steeled himself and looked back down. “Fine. What you ignoring Kyle for, John? He’s not done owt wrong and you’re treating him like a bit of shit.” 

John’s head spun, he sat up that fast. “What?” 

“Everyone can see you blanking him, and that dig at the table last night - it’s making a fuckin horrible atmosphere and no one wants it. Can you not fix it?” 

John went to respond, but Ross cut him off. “John doesn’t have to fucking do anything he doesn’t want to, alright? This is a bit fucking unwarranted, Pickford, is it not?” 

Jordan laughed. “He can do what he wants can he? Rich coming from you, like. You’re the bossiest fucker here.” 

Ross stood up, pushing back his shoulders. “Say that again, you stupid twat,” he hissed. 

John leapt up, putting himself between them both. “Ross, please,” he begged, trying to calm him down. “Don’t do this, I don’t want you to get sent home - “ 

“You’re a big fuckin bully, Ross, and I’m not scared of you,” Jordan spat, standing his ground. “Someone needs to fuckin put you in your place.” 

“Do they, you think so?” Ross scoffed, trying his best to get around John. “You want a go then, you fuckin chav? Show your true colours? No one fuckin fancies you as it is, I’m sure losing a fight’ll change everyone’s mind.” 

John stepped back, disgusted. “Ross!” He shouted, thankful that at that moment Kieran and Gareth had come over and were leading Jordan away, who was spouting an unintelligible stream of thick Geordie abuse at Ross. “That is too fucking far!” 

“Too far? Are you having me on? He was speaking to me like shit!” Ross shouted, his face red, spit flying from his mouth. He’d never looked more unattractive, and John had never been so repulsed by him. He turned and marched away, his eyes brimming with hot tears of anger and regret. Thankfully, Ross didn’t follow him. 

John made it to the empty dressing room before he fell apart, crying into his hands. He was so exhausted, so done - Ross had behaved awfully and John was no better because he was Ross’s partner. He’d allowed Ross to tell him who he could and could not speak to; he hadn’t checked Ross when he’d made horrible comments. John was ashamed and furious all at once, and all he wanted was to go home. 

As soon as he’d thought it, the idea stayed lodged in his brain - John wanted to go home. He had to go home, he had to see his mam, he had to get away from Ross and Kyle and the whole fucking fuck up. John thought about how to do this - he had to go to the diary room, he had to say he was done, on the verge of a break down, needed to leave. Fuck his contract, fuck the bet - he had to go. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, when Harry walked into the room and closed the door behind him. 

“Hey, come here,” he said, bringing John into a soothing embrace. “Hey, it’s alright, John, relax,” Harry cooed. It made John cry harder actually, until there were no tears left and it was just him hiccuping into Harry’s shoulder. “What’s going on, eh?” Harry asked gently, prising John back and holding him at arm’s length. 

John couldn’t find the words, couldn’t catch a breath or figure out how to make this make sense. “Going home,” he choked out. “M’ going home.” 

Harry tutted. “Aw John, don’t say that, no you - “ 

“Am Harry, M’going now, going to tell them now,” John wailed, and Harry guided him down to a chair, rubbing circles into his back. 

“John, I need you to calm down,” Harry tried, more sternly, but John was having none of it, the water works turning back on and his speech growing utterly incoherent. 

Next thing Gareth stuck his head in, looking at John and Harry in astonishment. “He okay?” Gareth asked, and Harry hissed “Does he look it?” 

“John, mate?” Gareth called, but John wasn’t listening, wasn’t stopping. 

“Shall I get Ross?” Harry said. Gareth shook his head furiously. 

“Fuck, no. Go and get Kyle, I’ll sit with him.” 

John started trying to protest that, hopping up, but Gareth pushed him back down and kneeled in front of him, trying to take him through some breathing exercises. John was just starting to follow instruction - in, out, in, out - when Kyle came in, his face etched with worry, his eyes wild. 

“What’s going on?!” He said shrilly, falling down beside Gareth, eyes roving over John’s face madly. “Are you alright, John?” 

“I think he’s had a bit of a panic attack,” Gareth supplied, getting to his feet. “I think you guys have some talking to do. Give me a shout if you need anything, yeah? I’ll go and get him a glass of water,” Gareth said softly, leaving them to it with a quiet click of the door. 

“Ey, what’s wrong, love?” Kyle said again, softly, putting a hand on John’s thigh. “What you got yourself all upset about?” 

John shouldn’t have been surprised that Kyle was a good enough person to still be warm and kind to him even after his recent behaviour, but he still was. He couldn’t catch his breath, couldn’t stop blubbering. Kyle took John’s left hand and brought the middle and forefinger up to the pulse point in his own neck, holding it there. “Feel my pulse,” he instructed John. “Focus on it, there you go,” he said. “Deep breath in for me, one out. Good lad, and again. In and out. Hey, it’s okay, it’s alright. I’ve got you, you’re going to be okay.” 

John did what he was told, concentrating on Kyle’s pulse, the steady rhythm of his heart. He stared into his eyes and breathed, and eventually he did begin to calm, feeling more and more in control of himself. A wave of fatigue crashed over him, and he collapsed forward onto Kyle, toppling him over. Kyle grunted and let out a whoosh of air, but then he arranged them so that they were sitting face to face, knees knocking where their legs were crossed, John still holding onto his neck. With his other hand John reached for Kyle’s wrist and sought out the pulse point there, and he let his head fall forward onto Kyle’s shoulder, letting himself come down from wherever he had just been. 

“What’s all that about, ey?” Kyle asked again. 

“Want to go home,” John croaked out. Kyle rested his free hand on John’s hip, rubbing circles into his skin with his thumb. It was setting off John’s ASMR, the back of his neck tingling, and it made it hard to concentrate but also relaxed him, made him less worried. 

“Why do you want to go home?” 

“Whole thing’s a mess.” 

“Hey, can you put your head up, love? There you are, I want to see your eyes, see what you’re thinking. What’s a mess?” 

John blinked slowly. “Me. My time on this fucking programme. Ross - he was so disgusting, there, to Jord, it was out of order - “ 

“That’s not your fault, John,” said Kyle firmly. 

“It is though, because I encourage him, don’t I? I never challenge him. I’m just as bad.” 

“Look, John, I’m not just saying this - you are nothing like him. Alright? Nothing alike. You are funny and goofy and kind and he’s just... not like that. I get that you’re attracted to him, right, he is hot, but like - you’re so much better, John, than him! And I’m not just saying that because I want you to couple up with me,” he laughed, and John let out a weak little laugh too. “Please trust me, alright. No one puts you in the same category as Ross, partner or not.” 

“I’ve been really fucking shit to you, Kyle,” John said, quietly. 

Kyle shook his head. “Yeah, it’s been a bit shit. But I get it,” he said stoically. Then it was John’s turn to shake his head. 

“No, don’t be nice to me about that. I shouldn’t have been blanking you. I should’ve told Ross you’re my friend and that he has to accept that,” John said. 

Kyle pulled his wrist out of John’s grasp and brought both his hands up to rest on the side of John’s head, holding him still, observing him carefully. “John,” he said, barely a whisper, “friends don’t do to each other the things I want to do to you, yeah?” 

John swallowed, hard. Before he could think better of it, he brought his fingers up to Kyle’s mouth, ran them over his lips. He was pushing his index finger into Kyle’s mouth at the same time as he was saying, “But I can’t do anything, I can’t give up on Ross until I know for sure...” he trailed off as Kyle’s eyelids fluttered and he sucked in John’s finger, his mouth warm and wet and, to John’s torment, very skilled. 

Kyle let the finger fall out of his mouth with a pop. “I know you can’t, I know you’re a good guy. So I’ll wait, as long as I can until the public throw me out or Ross does me in - “ 

“What about Jesse?” John asked, eyes on Kyle’s mouth, nursing a semi. 

“Me and Lingard have as much in common as a hair dryer and a bath tub,” Kyle said, his thumbs stroking a steady rhythm over the sides of John’s jaw. 

John wanted to kiss him so, so badly. He wanted nothing more than to lean in and feel his lips, his tongue, to melt into Kyle. Fuck it, he thought. It was a game, and Ross had been a twat. He wanted this - he wanted it badly. John leaned in ever so slightly, licking his lips in preparation, bringing his own hands to Kyle’s hips - 

When in came Gareth, holding the glass of water he’d promised, making a loud and exaggerated entrance so as to warn them of his presence. Kyle and John sprang apart, Kyle helping John to his feet, thanking Gareth for the water, both of them dazed and hot and both sporting poorly hidden erections. 

“Feeling alright now?” Gareth asked, and John cursed him internally. 

“Good mate, yeah. Thanks, sorry about all that - It’s one of those days, know what I mean?” 

“Yeah lad, I do. You can always talk to us, right? None of this going home nonsense,” Gareth admonished, clapping John on the back. “Ross is looking for you, I told him I’d send you his way. He’s waiting for you in the bedroom.” 

John looked at Kyle, who was fumbling around in someone’s toiletries bag behind them. “Alright, Gareth, cheers. Catch you later Kyle?” 

Kyle looked over his shoulder and put up a thumb. “Catch you in a bit bud!” 

John stumbled out of the changing room, taking a few minutes to breathe and get himself together, to relax a bit. Right, Ross - he had to tell him that whole thing with Jordan was not okay. He had to tell him he wasn’t going to cut Kyle out. He had to tell him that this was his last chance - or things wouldn’t work out between them. John could do this. He steeled himself, and headed to the bedroom. 

— 

John woke up on the other side of the bed from Ross, his head faintly banging - he guessed from the dehydration of all the crying he’d done. John stretched and replayed yesterday’s events; the moment in the dressing room with Kyle; the conversation with Ross in the bedroom. 

Ross had been apologetic enough, ashamed of himself once he’d calmed down. John made him go and apologise to Jordan who had graciously accepted it for the sake of the villa. Then John had told Ross - you can’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to. I’m going to talk to Kyle, because we live in a house together and I get on with the guy, and you’ll have to accept that. I won’t betray you, I’ll be loyal, I promise you that. But all this aggression and nastiness has to stop. It has to stop. 

Ross had grumbled a bit but ultimately he knew he couldn’t argue. They kissed, made up, went to bed. Now John was awake and feeling better, marginally. Conflicted and confused, but not wanting to go home. 

He picked himself up out of bed and went to shower. He took extra care washing his hair, his face. He couldn’t stop thinking of Kyle, of the finger he’d put into his mouth, how close they were to kissing. John was glad they hadn’t kissed in the end because he couldn’t cheat on Ross - flaws or not, John wouldn’t betray him. Still, he couldn’t help but think about Kyle as he tugged himself off in the shower, the other man’s name on his lips as he came down the drain. 

— 

Half of the islanders were eating breakfast around the table, some doing laps in the pool, a couple working out in the gym when a booming voice had called “S’appnin everyone?!” from the entrance to the garden. 

John spun around and saw two blokes walking in, big smiles and fit bodies. The taller of the two had dark brown hair and a friendly face, but an undeniably big forehead. The other one was cute and pretty, boyish looking, almost innocent. The established islanders got up and moved towards the men, greeting them with hand shakes and one armed hugs. 

“I’m Harry,” John heard the big one say. 

“I’m Harry too!” Said Harry Kane, and they joked a bit about there only being room for one Harry in the villa. John looked at Kyle and rolled his eyes at that, still smiling fondly nonetheless. 

“I’m Harry Maguire, so you can call me that, if you want,” he said. 

The other one was called Marcus and he was as young as he looked - twenty, christ. John was still sleeping till noon and playing Call of Duty all day when he was twenty. 

Harry Maguire and Marcus were still introducing themselves when Dele’s phone pinged with a text. 

“I’ve got a text!” He shouted, pulling out his phone. “‘Harry and Marcus, welcome to the villa - what better way to get to know your fellow islanders than with a date? Bring the islander of your choice for a day of go karting, lunch and drinks’.” 

They all oooed and observed Maguire and Marcus, wondering who they’d pick. John tried not to make eye contact in the hopes neither of them would pick him. He couldn’t be bothered throwing another love interest into the mix. 

“Jesse, will you go on a date with me?” Marcus asked coyly. Jesse happily accepted. 

Maguire took longer to speak. “Alright, fuck it. Ross, will you come go karting with me?” 

John wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He looked up at Harry, frowning. He wasn’t joking, it appeared. John looked over at Ross next, who was smiling at Harry. “Yeah, that’d be great,” he said politely. John stared in disbelief. 

“C’mon then lads,” Jesse said, pulling on his shoes. Let’s get off!” 

They all moved back towards the door, and Ross placed a quick kiss on John’s cheek before he left. “See you soon, yeah? Nothing to worry about. Just a date.” 

John just nodded, and watched Ross and Harry walk out the door. 

— 

Once he’d gotten over his initial annoyance, John actually quite liked having Ross out from under his feet. He finished his breakfast in peace and then asked Kyle to spot him with some weight lifting. They talked for ages about Making A Murderer - John thought the guy was guilty, Kyle did not - and then they milled around together, messing about with Dele and Eric, sunbathing in quiet companionship. 

They stood up to eat lunch, and John was stretching by the edge of the pool when Kyle shoved him in, completely unwarranted and entirely flirty. 

“Bastard!” John shouted, flicking his soaking hair off his forehead. “I was about to fucking go eat!”

“Yeah, well you looked thirsty,” Kyle said, and John suddenly bobbed out of the water and grabbed Kyle’s wrist, tugging with all his strength until he came tumbling in head first too. 

“Fucker!” 

They splashed each other and tried to dunk each other and John ended up with his legs around Kyle’s waist and Kyle’s eyes darkened and John had to get out of the pool before they scandalised everyone in the villa and half the nation. 

They ate lunch together, just the two of them, and then they moved to the day beds to relax. Kyle was attempting to read John’s upturned palm when the other guys returned from their date. 

John shot up off the bed, not wanting to aggravate Ross too much, and went over to greet him. They walked in together, Harry and Ross, but then they split off, Ross coming to hug John and Harry heading off to the smoking area to chat to Jordan and Kieran. 

“How was it?” John asked, anxious. 

“It was fun, yeah. Missed you,” Ross replied. 

“Missed you too,” John lied, and Ross lead him by the hand into the bedroom, where they cuddled in silence for a little while. 

— 

Marcus and Jesse had really, really hit it off. They clicked instantly John thought - they looked suited to each other, had a similar sense of humour. John was thrilled that Jesse’s attentions would be elsewhere, but he was also mildly concerned - he didn’t want Kyle to end up uncoupled and dumped from the island. He was being selfish, he knew, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

Yeah, Marcus and Jesse had clicked - but John was also pretty sure that Maguire and Ross had clicked, too. 

When Ross and John got up out of bed that afternoon, Ross and Harry had gravitated towards each other and started having the kind of straight, manly lad banter that John normally detested. He wouldn’t be jealous, he told himself repeatedly. He wouldn’t get jealous, he wouldn’t be a hypocrite. 

Still, it bothered him - Harry kept touching Ross’s arms and Ross hardly spoke to John for the rest of the night, his attentions elsewhere. John tried to keep it together, he did, but he couldn’t help it when he pulled Ross aside before bed and needily asked him if he was into Harry, if John should be worried. 

“What? Of course not,” Ross said, incredulous. “We’re together, you and me. You have nothing to worry about here, John, right?” 

John tried to take his word for it, but he felt so shitty about the whole thing - something just wasn’t right. 

 

— 

John met Kyle in the kitchen the next day, the early morning routine that was just for them. 

“G’morning,” he grinned sleepily at Kyle. “Another day in paradise, ey?” 

Kyle laughed gently from his usual perch on the counter. “Your hair’s crazy,” he said. “Come here, let me see it.”

John came to where Kyle was sat and stood between his thighs, absently allowing his hands to rest there - Kyle must regularly moisturise, his skin was too soft not to - and he fixed his hair for him, pushing all the strands into a similar direction. “Perfect,” Kyle said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Or, as perfect as it can get without any products or that.” 

John didn’t want to move, the fucking hypocrite that he was. He didn’t want to but he did, he forced himself to move away, to fetch mugs out of the cupboard and switch on the kettle. Whilst he waited for it to boil, John looked over at Kyle and just watched him for a bit. He hated Love Island and reality TV, but this bit; this bit wasn’t so bad. 

Ross and Harry flirted all the way through breakfast. It was a bit awkward actually, because everyone kept stealing glances at John to see how he was reacting, and it made John feel like he was an animal in a zoo. It also made him feel like a total mug, which was annoying. 

Maguire had made no effort to get to know John, seemingly only interested in his partner. John thought it was a bit rude and a lot shitty, thought it said plenty about the kind of person Harry was. 

Marcus and Jesse were really sweet - they were like Dele and Eric, just totally into each other from the get go and not shy about it. Everywhere he looked were happy couples - Harry Kane and Gareth looked like they’d been married for ten years; Jordan and Kieran were quietly into each other and best friends besides; Dele and Eric sickeningly sweet. At a dumping it would have to be John and Ross who went home, surely - they were the only pair still arguing, flirting with other people when the other one wasn’t looking. John would’ve been glad to see his mam and dad but he wasn’t sold on going home right then. He didn’t feel that he was done with his experience. 

— 

John and Kyle were working out again when Harry Kane meandered over and started lifting some baby weights beside them. They made small talk, nattered pointlessly. Then Harry turned his gaze on Kyle. 

“I was wondering, Kyle. Are you alright? About Jesse and that new kid?” 

Kyle stopped pressing and looked at Harry. “Alright? Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I dunno, just, I know you and Jesse got along - “ 

“I’m not interested in Jesse,” Kyle said flatly, going back to his reps. 

“Oh. Okay then,” Harry said, letting silence fall. John wondered if Gareth had sent Harry, wondered if the pair of them would get a bloody counselling segment on This Morning when all of this was over. He shook his head, trying not to laugh. All of these people, all of them, were bloody ridiculous - but he loved them. 

— 

John was on his way to the kitchen again the next morning when he passed Jesse and Marcus asleep on one of the day beds outside. 

He was first to the kitchen today, and was on his second brew when Kyle joined him fifteen minutes later, sleepy and ruffled looking. “I see you slept alone last night,” John said by way of greeting, and Kyle nodded. 

“Indeed I did. Nice to get the bed to meself, Jesse fucking farts all night.” 

John snorted. “Really?” 

“Yeah, dirty bastard.” 

“I’m secretly happy you’re not sharing with him anymore, if I’m honest,” John said before he could stop himself. 

Kyle cocked an eyebrow. “Uh huh? Why don’t you couple up with us then?” 

“Because I’m a big shit bag,” John said sadly. Kyle rolled his eyes and shook his head, and they drank their respective beverages. 

“Shall we go and get ready?” Kyle asked John eventually, stretching out. John still hadn’t brought Ross his tea, but he thought - fuck it. Why not. 

“C’mon then,” he said, leaving his mug in the sink. 

They grabbed clothes from the still sleeping bedroom, going quietly so as not to wake anyone. 

They moved around the bathroom comfortably, laughing at nothing and goofing about, John dancing like a shark whilst Kyle brushed his teeth, causing him to spray white foam all over the mirror in laughter. 

“Look what you made me do!” Kyle said incredulously, spitting the paste from his mouth. “You have to clean that,” he said, swatting at John’s arm. John grabbed his wrist before he could make contact, pulling him closer. 

John grabbed Kyle’s face with his other hand and pinched his cheeks to open his mouth, making a show of inspecting his teeth. “Hmmm... you missed a bit,” he said lowly, pretending to be disgusted. “How have you managed all these years without being able to brush your own teeth?” 

Kyle would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so turned on. “I think you were created to torture me,” Kyle struggled to say, given the position of his mouth in John’s hand. John let him go and cupped his face instead, gently this time, his thumb swiping back and forth across Kyle’s cheek. 

It was so hard to be good when Kyle was this close, when John could smell him and feel him. One kiss, one kiss would be harmless. Kyle took the ties of John’s swimming shorts and tugged on them, bringing them even closer, almost flush together. They were both hard, which John couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed about. He looked at Kyle’s lips. This was it. 

“Oh fuck - sorry lads,” said Dele, putting his hand up to cover his eyes. “Just really need a piss, sorry - “ 

John and Kyle stepped away from each other, Kyle going to the sink, John standing awkwardly with a red face. “Sorry, I’ll get out your way,” he murmured, passing Dele and leaving the bathroom. 

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck, he cursed himself, the universe, everything - he was the worst human on earth, a truly awful person. John fled to the garden, hiding in a quiet corner of the smoking area, and hoped that he knew Dele well enough to know that he’d keep what he’d seen to himself. 

— 

Ross joined John in the garden and seemed none the wiser. John was thankful but he still felt guilty, hiding from both Kyle and Dele like a nervous kid. 

He tried to avoid them, but Dele sought him out sometime after lunch, an uneasy expression on his face. 

“John,” he began, and John’s stomach contracted. “I don’t judge you or that, I just want to talk to you. You’re a good lad and what I saw earlier... I think it’d be unfair of me if I didn’t tell you that I don’t agree with it. I think you and Kyle SHOULD crack on - “ 

“Keep your voice down!” 

“Sorry. I think you should try it with Kyle, I think you’d be good together. But not behind Ross’s back, man. Give him the chance to explore things with other people, and don’t make yourself the bad guy. I know you aren’t a bad person.” 

He seemed relieved to have said something, and John felt bad that he’d put Dele in this position. He nodded in agreement. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, to put you in this situation, like. I didn’t plan any of it, I’m not playing games or that - “ 

“I know.” 

“I’ll talk to Ross, alright. I appreciate you talking to me about it instead of running to him, too,” he said, and Dele nodded. 

“Course, lad. I like you, like I said.” They bumped fists and started talking about Jesse and Marcus instead, but John didn’t feel any less uneasy or uncomfortable. He didn’t want to finish with Ross - he felt like a dick, like a snake. He wished he didn’t have to do any of this. 

— 

Later, John told himself. I’ll talk to him later. But later came, and then it was night, and they were milling around minding their own business when Caroline Flack came strutting into the garden. 

John’s heart sank. Fuck - this was it, this was it, he was done for, he was going home. His thoughts started spiralling as they made their way to the fire pit, until Kyle came up behind him and squeezed him by the neck and whispered “Stop panicking.” 

They sat down in their couples, Harry Maguire and Marcus being directed to stand next to Caroline. 

“Hello, boys - how are we all doing? Tonight we have a recoupling. No dumpings - for now. You know the drill by now I think - so without further adieu, Marcus - who would you like to couple up with?” 

“I’m picking this boy because since I came in here, we’ve proper clicked and I want to continue to explore that connection. So, Jesse, will you couple up with me?” 

Jesse bounced across the deck and grabbed Marcus into a big hug, kissing him on the cheek and whispering stuff in his ear. Cute, thought John. 

“Alright, and Harry M - who would you like to couple up with?” 

Harry took a deep breath, and it instantly set John on edge. “Okay. Er, this hasn’t been an easy choice, and I’m sure it’ll ruffle some feathers. But I’ve come in here to find someone and I have to give things a chance. So for that reason, the person I want to couple up with is Ross.” 

There was a moment of silence, of stillness - to John it seemed to stretch on forever, endless, excruciating. He looked at Harry, the big headed twat, and then at Ross, and then at Kyle, all of whom were staring at John, gauging his reaction. John just sat there, open mouthed, saying nothing. 

“Alright Ross, come and join Harry please,” Caroline prompted. Ross squeezed John’s hand and then went to stand beside Harry, not looking as sad as John would’ve liked. 

The rest of the lads coupled up as predicted - Harry Kane and Gareth, Jordan and Kieran, Dele and Eric. John had to choose, and there was only one option left. He stood next to Caroline and threw daggers at Harry. 

“Well, I’m in a position that I didn’t want to be in - some people can’t respect other people’s relationships, obviously - “ (Dele nearly popped a tendon when he heard John come out with that one) “so I’ll couple up with Kyle.” Kyle pulled himself up slowly, standing next to John awkwardly and not hugging or touching him. 

Caroline bid her farewells, and the fallout commenced. 

“Really, Harry?” John snapped, wound up. “My partner?” 

“It’s the game, John,” Harry replied matter of factly. “Sorry if you can’t handle it.” 

“I can handle it fine. Ross, come here,” John commanded, and Ross raised his eyebrows at him. “Please,” John asked, scared Ross would embarrass him in front of everyone by saying no. 

He didn’t say no, though. He got up and followed John into the bedroom, his arms folded and his head tilted in an infuriating display of nonchalance. “I didn’t know he would do that,” was all Ross said by way of reassurance. 

“Do you want to be with him?” 

“Not really, no. But like - I dunno, where do you see this going, John? Do you see us together on the outside?” 

“If I didn’t then I wouldn’t have stuck with you!” John exclaimed, ignoring the voice in his head calling him a liar. 

“Alright, fine. I’m not going to start seeing him properly but like, it is a game, and we do have to see where things go - “ 

“What, so are you going to share a bed with him and that? Are we not gonna sleep on the day beds?” 

Ross sighed. “I need to give him a fair chance, John, alright - “ 

“No, go on. Enjoy each other. I’ve been nothing but loyal to you!” Lie. “I’ve had your back and I will continue to have it, coupled up or not. I care for you,” lie. “I want to do the right thing by you. If it’s over, tell me and I’ll walk away. But if there’s a chance we can walk away from this together, tell me now, and I’ll wait for you.” 

Ross looked at John almost pityingly, sadness in his eyes. “Oh John. Of course there’s a chance, you know how I feel about you. Come here,” he said, pulling John into a tight hug. “Don’t worry about this, eh? It’s going to be fine.” 

John wasn’t so sure. 

He sat there for a while longer after Ross had made his excuses and returned to the garden, thinking. Then he went discreetly to his side of the bed, the side Harry would now sleep on, and quietly farted on the pillow. 

— 

He returned to the group and instantly could see that Kyle was annoyed with him. Fair, thought John. I would be too. 

“Walker,” he said sheepishly, trying to use a boyish grin to win Kyle round. “Camminatore. Gehhilfe. Marcheur?” 

Everyone in the vicinity looked at him like he had three heads. John blinked at them all. “What?” 

“How many fucking languages do you speak?” Kyle blurted, completely baffled. 

“Oh - that’s not important - Kyle, I’m sorry about that, about the way I coupled with you. I was fucking pissed off, I wasn’t thinking properly.” The others turned around and resumed their conversations, leaving Kyle and John to it. 

“Why don’t you just fucking finish with him,  
John?” Kyle said. 

“I like him, Kyle,” John pleaded. “I like him and I like you too and I can’t figure out the right thing to do.” 

“Why the fuck should I continue giving you my time when you’re so unsure about me?” Kyle asked, and John threw a look at Gareth, who was close by with his head down, his ears a little bit pink. Those were definitely the words of Gareth fucking Southgate, thought John. 

“I am sure about you, Kyle. I’ve never been more sure. I’m just trying to do this the right way. I was with Ross first and we promised each other, right? We promised we’d hang on till the end. I can’t do owt with you until we’re sure we don’t want each other. It’s stupid, and I’m sorry, and if you tell me you’re done with me I’ll understand. The ball’s in your court.” 

Kyle laughed incredulously. “Fuck sake, John, ball’s in my court? It’s never been in my court.” He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “You’re a nightmare.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. And you can stop pretending not to listen, Gareth, I can see you,” John called, his capacity to give a fuck long gone out the window. 

— 

It was weird sliding into a different bed that night, but John would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrilled to be lying beside Kyle. They moved to the middle of the bed, facing each other on their pillows. 

“Knew I’d get you in my bed eventually,” Kyle whispered. John laughed and Kyle smiled. “I love your laugh. It’s so hot.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I do. I fucking love it.” 

“Go to sleep, Kyle.” 

“You the big spoon or the little spoon?” 

“Go to sleep.” 

“Little spoon, definitely.” 

“Shhh.”

“How many languages do you speak?” 

“Will you SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Barked Jordan to their left, and they pulled the duvet over their heads to stifle their laughter. 

“No spooning tonight. Best behaviour.” John said, once they’d caught their breath. 

“Fine, fine,” Kyle whispered. “Night, Johnny.” 

“Goodnight, Kyle.” 

—— 

John woke up early as usual, and thanked god that he did. He was draped over Kyle, his face pressed into his neck, Kyle’s arm wrapped around his back. John’s leg was in between both of Kyle’s, his crotch pushed up against the curve of Kyle’s hip. John’s right arm was over Kyle’s chest at a ninety degree angle, his hand up and splayed over Kyle’s cheek. 

John let himself lay there for a while, pretending for a minute that it was just him, Kyle, and the butterflies in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry, I don’t know why Harry Maguire gets it so tight in everything I write - I swear I do like the guy! Soz lad xoxoxo


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am splitting this into two to save you having to wait any longer! I’m so busy, but finding time whenever I can. Thank you for sticking with me! Xxx

John disentangled himself from Kyle carefully, glancing over to his old bed to make sure Ross was still asleep. 

Sure enough he was, curled up and facing away from Harry in the bed. John thought for a moment that it’d be good if Ross left him for Harry so he could crack on with Kyle - that’d be a nice, easy way out. He only thought it for a second though before his feelings of childish jealousy kicked in, and the thought of watching Ross be intimate with someone else made him uneasy. 

Fuck it all, he was the worst, and it was all being recorded and documented for the world to see. Life wasn’t fair. John slid out of bed and looked down at Kyle for a second, at how angelic he looked when he was at peace. 

“You’re a weirdo,” a voice whispered from across the room. John looked up at Jordan, who had on eye open watching John watch Kyle sleep. John flipped him off playfully, and set about starting his day. 

— 

Their challenge of the day was a football match. 

They were all fairly excited by the prospect, some of them being proper football fans. Someone had to nominate them self as the manager, and that person was in charge of splitting the rest of the boys onto sides and into roles. Ross had immediately piped up that he wanted the job, but Dele interjected that he thought Gareth would be better at it. Ross lost the subsequent vote, and Gareth became the boss. 

He listened to people’s own opinions about which positions they thought they should play, but ultimately went with his gut. Kyle was a defender, a role he had experience in given his career. Dele wanted to be a striker but Gareth thought he’d be better as a midfielder. Pickford wanted to defend, but Gareth thought that was just an excuse to get physical, so he placed him in goal, arguing that he had good reflexes and would do well there. John wanted to be in midfield - he was good with the ball, he said, liked keeping the game moving. Gareth placed him defence, both because of his height and suppleness and his ability to work well with Kyle. 

Ross had listened to the exchange between John and Gareth and snorted in derision. “John should be a goalie.” 

John frowned at him. “Should I fuck?” 

“He’s going to defend, Ross,” Gareth said exasperatedly, turning his attention to the lads who hadn’t been assigned. 

“He should be a goalie, I’m sure of it,” Ross insisted, and John grew irritated. 

“Literally, of all the things, why the fuck would I be a goalie? What are you talking about?” 

“Dunno, just feels like it would suit you more standing still in goal.” 

John was incredulous. He looked at the others to see if they were hearing this too. “Do you know me at all, Ross, mate?” 

“Gareth! I’m right about this. Swap Stones and Pickford, I’m telling you - “ 

“If it’ll shut you up, then fine, John and Jordan - swap and see how you get on.” 

John threw his hands up in annoyance and went to stand in goal, taking the gloves from Jordan and glaring at Ross, who was now bossing Gareth around about where Eric should play. 

Eventually they were all in place, and the game began - the winning side would get a party, the losing side would get nothing. It was essentially a game of fives but much more competitive, and John really fucking wanted to win - he felt like he hadn’t danced for ages - but he was so, so bad in goal. 

Harry Kane swept a total of six goals past John before Gareth took mercy and stopped the game. “Stones, Pickford - switch back. Thanks for the input, Ross, but as you can see John is hopeless in goal.” 

The other team protested, thinking it was unfair that they got to swap roles - but Gareth held his hand up for order and Jordan and John swapped places, John jogging to Kyle’s right and high fiving him as he did. 

“The secret to defending is knocking the ball away from the fuckers like you’ll lose a leg if you touch them anywhere. Think like a ballerina,” Kyle whispered to John, and John nodded as the game resumed. 

They played so much better like that. Gareth was right - John and Kyle worked well together, intuitive, and Jordan was amazing in goal, imposing and smart in his predictions. Their side managed to prevent any further goals and get three of their own, but it wasn’t enough - when the game was up, the other side had won, and so both Harrys, Ross, Eric, Jesse and Gareth (because he was Harry’s partner) were off to the party, whilst Jordan, Kieran, Kyle, John, Marcus and Dele would have to stay in the villa. 

John was disappointed but still high from the buzz of the game, having enjoyed that much more than he thought he would. 

“You’re a natural,” Kyle had panted, clapping John on the back. John was inclined to agree. 

John was discussing this with Kyle when Eric came over and asked if John wanted to take his place to the party, as he’d have rather stuck around with Dele. John looked at Kyle, not sure what to say. Kyle nodded at him, eyebrows slightly raised. “You should go,” he said. “I know how much you wanted a party.” 

John wrapped him in a bear hug and ran off with the other guys, trying to insert himself beside Ross who seemed only deflated that John would be joining them. 

— 

John was miserable at the party without Kyle. 

There was no dancing, no goofing around, no fun. He felt like a third wheel between Ross and Harry, and was intensely uncomfortable when Harry Maguire suggested they play spin the bottle. 

John looked at Gareth and Harry Kane, knowing they wouldn’t kiss anyone else at the table. He looked at Ross. 

“Let’s go off on our own,” he whispered into Ross’s ear. Ross shook his head and ignored John. 

“I’ll play, Harry!” Ross said, and John’s heart sank. He was being mugged off and he knew it; he knew things were going south and fast. 

“Aw Ross, for fuck sake,” he sighed, and he wondered if it was that Ross had seen him cuddling Kyle this morning, or if he was just naturally a horrible bastard. 

Harry spun the bottle and it landed between John and Ross. John was about to pull Ross up and say enough was enough when Ross leaned in and kissed Harry, right on the mouth. John shook his head and pushed himself out of his seat, walking past Harry Kane and Gareth who were looking at him pityingly and past the producers on the outskirts of the little vista they’d set up for the winner’s party just behind the villa. 

“I’m going back,” he murmured at them, stalking off down the dusty path that lead back to the house, tears stinging at his eyes. He felt so stupid, so naive - and he felt bad for Kyle, who had waited and waited just for John to continually choose Ross over him, seemingly for nothing. 

He got back to the Villa. The house was empty, the remaining islanders out in the garden. John could vaguely hear them laughing and bantering out there, having much more fun than he’d been having at the stupid winner’s party. He went to Kyle’s bed and collapsed into it, pulling the covers up over his head and allowing tears to fall, fists clenched in quiet frustration as he sobbed. 

He heard the bedroom door open and he held his breath, trying hard to keep quiet. Whoever it was didn’t say anything, and John was silent for the longest time, unsure if they were still in the room. It was hard to breathe under the covers and he wanted badly to come up for air but he didn’t want to be seen like this, didn’t want to cause a big drama - 

The covers were pulled back and he blinked up into the light at Kyle, who was visibly worried. “John, oh my god - what’s going on?” He asked softly, jumping onto the bed and pulling John into a half sitting position so that he could wrap his arms around him. “Kieran said he heard you crying, what the fuck happened?” 

John fell apart again now that Kyle was here, much to his own dismay. He felt rotten, felt conflicted and confused. He breathed in Kyle’s skin and aftershave and let himself be held for a bit, finally calming down enough to say “Ross - he’s a dick - it’s over.” 

Kyle didn’t say anything, just rubbing soothing circles into John’s back patiently. John could hear Kyle’s heart pick up speed in his chest, but he didn’t say anything, didn’t react. 

“He kissed Harry in front of me,” John eventually supplied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I tried so hard to make it work, I wanted to be loyal. But it was a waste of time.” 

“Hey, don’t say that. It wasn’t a waste of time. It’s who you are, John, you’re decent. You gave it everything. You can’t regret trying your hardest to make something work.” 

“You’re too good to me Kyle, too good,” John sniffled. 

“Not true. I’m just patient, John. You’re a good guy.” 

John sat up and back a bit, his hand on Kyle’s thigh. Kyle smiled reassuringly and John looked at his lips, wanting to kiss him, to finally fucking kiss him - there was nothing to be decent about anymore, things were over with Ross, he’d blown it. John leaned forward slowly, carefully - and Ross barged in, all guns blazing. 

“The fuck is this? Storm out of the party so you can come back here and do this, did you?” Ross shouted, pointing accusingly at John. “Fucking liberty!” 

“Piss off, Ross! You fucking mugged me right off back there, that was out of order!” 

“It was a game! A fucking game - “ 

“No it wasn’t! You don’t do that, game or no game! You’ve treat me like shit! This is over Ross, it’s all fucking - “ 

“Over, yeah?” 

“Yeah, over! You can go and do whatever you want, I’m done.” 

“You’ve been waiting for your chance to fucking get with him for ages,” Ross hissed, pointing at Kyle. 

“Woa - don’t bring me into this, Ross. We’ve not done anything wrong, not till now, so I don’t appreciate - “ 

“Fucking shut up! You’ve been sniffing about since day one!” 

“HEY! Hey, that’s enough! Ross, fuck off, leave us alone - it’s done, it’s fucking done,” John bellowed, uncharacteristically loud. “I’m sick of this! I can’t do it anymore.” 

Ross turned around and punched the bedroom wall, causing some of the paint to crack. He tore to the door and flung it open, smacking it off the wall too and storming out into the garden. John looked at Kyle, the previous moment ruined. He sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face, not sure what to do, what to say. They did nothing. Eventually, John got up, and went and got himself ready for bed. 

— 

Kyle asked if he wanted to be alone, or if John wanted him to get into bed too. John felt bad asking, like he didn’t have any right to, but he patted the bed anyway and Kyle climbed over to him, pulled him close, wrapped an arm around his back and surrounded him. 

“It’s going to be okay, John,” he soothed, and John just clung on and breathed him in, so comforting and familiar despite having only known him for weeks, despite only getting to be close with him for an even shorter time than that. “I’m gonna look after you,” Kyle breathed into the room, stroking John’s hair back in a constant rhythm. 

John fell asleep thinking that he’d definitely made a very big mistake with his time on Love Island. He just hoped he’d be able to fix it. 

— 

John taught Kyle how to make a proper cup of tea in the kitchen the next morning. It wasn’t hard, you just put a tea bag in the cup and added water, but Kyle couldn’t get the hang of it, every cup he finished looking paper white or tasting off. 

Kyle had shaken John awake gently, unable to get out of the bed with John’s weight on top of him. John was bashful and apologetic but Kyle told him to shut up, putting a firm stop to any sheepishness. 

They’d made their way to the kitchen quietly, John stretching his limbs and thinking that he’d kill to go for a nice long run. Kyle had looked at him carefully and said “You are so gorgeous in the morning.” 

“Stop,” John protested, covering his face with his hands. 

“No, really. You’re so fascinating to me when you’re like this.” He pulled John’s hands away, forced him to make eye contact. “You’re so soft looking.” 

“What do I look like the rest of the time, a rock?” 

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” 

— 

They were moving around in their little bubble, waking up more with each passing minute, the nagging sadness at the back of John’s mind momentarily forgotten as he contemplated toast versus yoghurt. 

“Do you want to talk about Ross?” Kyle had asked eventually. 

John shrugged. “There’s nothing much to say. He obviously likes Harry, doesn’t he? Things between us ran their course.” 

“Are you okay? With it being over?” 

“I’m not jumping for joy. I liked him. But we’re different, I think. I think I was just attracted to him, more than anything.” 

“Did you ever... do anything?” 

John didn’t want to kiss and tell, but. It was all out there anyway, had all been recorded for the TV. “We never slept together but we have done stuff. Nothing exciting. Maybe it’s been clear all along that we weren’t going to last,” he mused, adding blueberries to his yoghurt. 

John heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see Harry Maguire lumbering down towards them, squinting in the early sunlight. John’s heart rate picked up and he looked furiously into his bowl of breakfast, hoping Harry wouldn’t want to talk. 

“Morning,” he grunted at them, pouring himself a glass of water. John didn’t respond, Kyle just hummed something in reply. 

“Not gonna be awkward between us, mate, is it?” Harry said eventually. John looked up, first at Harry, then at Kyle. 

“We’re not gonna be best mates, no,” John said. “But I can be civil.” 

“Sound.” 

They remained in awkward silence for a beat, and then Harry left, returning the way he came. 

Kyle looked at John. “So, what now?” 

— 

None of them were expecting it when Caroline walked in later that afternoon. 

They weren’t even dressed up, all in their swim wear, lounging around in the garden and waiting for dinner time to roll around. 

“Can you all join me in the fire pit, boys!” Caroline called, and John’s stomach dropped, wondering who he’d be saying goodbye to this time around. 

He sat next to Kyle, giving him a quick squeeze on the thigh, pressing close so their shoulders were touching. “Fuck,” he whispered into Kyle’s ear. “This is mad.” 

“Didn’t see it coming,” Kyle responded, looking scared himself. “Whatever happens, it’s going to be fine, yeah?” 

“Yeah, going to be fine,” John said, but he wasn’t convinced. 

“Islanders, the viewers have been voting for the last two days to save their favourite couples. The couple with the least votes will have to leave the island immediately. Does everyone understand?” 

They all nodded. John looked around the circle. He looked at Kane and Gareth, who were holding hands, and Dele and Dier, who were pressed together tightly. Jordan looked ready to bolt, and Kieran was chewing his nails beside him. Rashford and Lingard were jittery, bodies angled together. John looked at Maguire and Ross, who were close but seemed relaxed, and then looked away again just as quickly. 

“The first couple who are safe and will stay in the villa are... Harry and Gareth.” 

Harry and Gareth hugged and kissed, tension visibly leaving them. 

“The second couple safe this week are Marcus and Jesse. The third couple staying in the villa are John and Kyle.” 

John was surprised. He turned to Kyle and grabbed him in a hug, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“The fourth couple who have been saved by the public are Dele and Dier, which means - Ross and Harry, and Jordan and Kieran, two of you will be going home today. Can you come and join me up here?” 

The guys got up, went to stand beside Caroline. John grabbed Kyle’s hand and brought it to his own mouth, petrified by the thought that Ross might be leaving him. They’d been together since day one of this journey, and John was scared of what it meant if he left like this - and then Caroline was announcing that Jordan and Kieran were saved, and Ross and Harry had to go home. 

John’s blood ran cold, his heart thumping in slow motion. Kyle put an arm around him, was saying something in his ear, but he couldn’t make it out. Ross was leaving, properly leaving, and John didn’t know if he’d see him again. They’d sworn to do this together, this whole thing, and here he was, going out the door with someone else. 

John stood up and walked to Ross, pulling him into a hug and holding on. “Be good, okay?” Ross said to him, and John just nodded, dazed, choosing to ignore Maguire all together. 

John couldn’t stand to watch Ross leave. He took himself to the daybeds and collapsed onto one, his face smushed into the mattress of it, and tried to tell himself that this was silly, it was over, it was done now. Still, he was irrationally sad. The whole environment of the show was bizarre and unrealistic and so were his feelings, the way he was processing this.

He didn’t know how many minutes later it was that Kyle came to him, calling his name, trying to grab onto him. John shook Kyle off aggressively, wanting to be alone. 

“Go away,” he snapped, turning his back to Kyle. 

“You know, John, I’ve been really fucking patient with you. But you’re being horrible to us. If you don’t want this, let me know so I can move on, yeah?” 

John could hear the hurt in Kyle’s voice, but he was hurting too, and as much as he wanted to have Kyle hold him and look after him he also just wanted to be alone with this, to come to terms with it by himself. 

Kyle did leave him alone, in the end. John didn’t feel any better after Kyle had walked away, in fact just feeling worse. He could hear his mum’s voice now, calling him a right fucking idiot. 

— 

John lay there, feeling sorry for himself, until the sun began to set and the sky turned shades of purple. 

He wondered how long he could stay there before he made a total cunt of himself. He thought maybe that ship had sailed. John was about to get up and shower when Harry Kane and Gareth came into the day bed area, plopping down on the bed and patting John gingerly on the calf. 

“Alright, Stonesy, time to give yourself a shake,” Harry said, and John rolled his eyes. 

He sat up, fatigued from doing nothing, and just looked at the pair of them. “Can I not be sad that my ex just went home?” 

Gareth looked at John with a kind of angry exasperation that John hadn’t yet seen. 

“You know what, John? No, you can’t. You need to get a fucking grip. I’m saying this because I care about you, but you’re fucking ridiculous! Ross treat you like shit and we all saw it! Not only that, John, but Kyle fucking worships you. The boy dotes on you! If you’re not interested, then fine, but you have to tell him. If you are, then go and fucking do something about it! This is nonsense John, you’re driving us all crazy! And listen, you’re mugging yourself off, as they say. Honestly, lad. Give yourself a shake, decide what you want. If it’s Ross, you know where the door is. If it’s Kyle, he’s upstairs, but I’ll tell you - if I was him I would not be very forgiving.” 

Gareth finished his rant, and John stared at him open mouthed. He looked at Gareth, then at Harry, who said “He’s bang on, John.” 

“What would your mam say, ey? I know how close you are to her. Would she want you holding back from someone who’s great for you out of a sense of loyalty? I don’t know her but I’m sure she wouldn’t. I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret,” Gareth added, and John could’ve cried again, he really could have. 

“Where’s Kyle?” He croaked. 

Gareth nodded upwards. “He just went to have a shower, you should wait till he comes - “ 

John tore off the day beds and made for the house, suddenly aware that Gareth was right - Kyle was great for him, and he wanted him, and he was being so unbelievably stupid by holding back. He was scared that he’d blown it, scared Kyle would tell him to fuck off. 

John sprinted up the stairs, two at a time, and barged into the bathroom, calling Kyle’s name. The room was steamy and the shower was running, and Kyle peeked out from behind the glass in confusion. “Yeah?” He said, and John thought - fuck it. 

He opened the door and came into the shower in his clothes, trying to keep his eyes on Kyle’s face and not on the expanse of brown skin, tattoos, the dark crop of hair that he could see out of the bottom of his field of vision. 

“I’m a twat,” he said. His shorts were fast getting soaked, his hair falling down against his forehead. “I’m a class A clown.” 

“Yes you are.” Kyle said, but he was stifling a grin, John could see it. 

“I want you. I wanted you since I first saw you, but I’ve been stupid about it. I did it all wrong. Tell me it’s not too late,” he said, and Kyle stepped closer, bringing their bodies together. 

“It’s never too late,” he breathed, canting up onto his tiptoes and kissing John on the mouth. 

It was everything John had imagined it would be; soft and painstaking, sexy and comforting at the same time. They fit together well, Kyle’s kissing style perfect for John - he liked those slow, wet ones, the kind that lend themselves to lazy lip bites and low throaty moans. John didn’t know where to put his hands, because Kyle was naked, but he settled for one on the hip and one on the neck, and Kyle was pressing up against him even so, getting erect against John’s own groin. 

John walked Kyle back against the wall and kissed his neck, sucked his collar bones, water dripping off his lashes and down his face. 

“You’re so worth the wait, Stones, fucking hell,” Kyle said, one hand in John’s hair, the other on his shoulder. 

John couldn’t help but look down at Kyle’s cock, straining upwards as it was for attention. He looked into Kyle’s eyes and sought permission, ghosting a hand over the erection. Kyle nodded once, twice, and John got on his knees and started to blow him. 

It was hard enough to breathe during a blow job at the best of times, and with the shower running over them, it was even more brutal. Still, John did his best, laved attention on Kyle and gave it his best shot, infinitely turned on himself and wishing there were no cameras out there so that they could just tumble out of this fucking shower and go buck wild on the floor. 

Kyle was surprisingly demanding, tugging John about by the hair and pumping his hips whenever he liked, and he was vocal about what he wanted, telling John when he liked something and when he didn’t. He pulled John off at one point and asked if he could breathe and if he wanted to continue and John just nodded eagerly and told himself - they won’t play the audio for this on the telly, it’s the fucking UK, they won’t scandalise the public that badly. Plus, he didn’t care that much if they did - listening to Kyle bossing him around was hot; and in that moment he’d have likely cried if Kyle would have stopped. 

John swallowed - Kyle remarked that he was a champ - and then Kyle gave him a hand job, and John came embarrassingly quickly, biting down on Kyle’s shoulder and shaking in Kyle’s hand. 

They kissed some more, all open mouths and tongues and sloppy rhythm, exchanging breath and saliva and whiny throaty noises on occasion. John washed the shampoo out of Kyle’s hair - Kyle laughed when John asked if he had to shampoo his beard - and then they stepped out of the shower into the cold of the bathroom, John peeling off his wet clothes and chucking them in the laundry basket. 

They wrapped themselves in fluffy towels and kissed by the sinks and John cursed himself for waiting this long, for being so stubborn. He didn’t deserve Kyle’s good grace but he’d take it anyway, take it until Kyle realised John was undeserving. 

“What made you come to your senses?” Kyle asked John between kisses, their lips swollen and red. John noticed that Kyle couldn’t keep his hands off John’s skin, a thumb here, fingers there - John was endeared by it, pressing closer, looking down with what he was sure were doe eyes that he didn’t care to hide. 

“Gareth,” John answered quickly, tilting his head down and against Kyle’s lips again, licking into his mouth hungrily. He ran a hand down Kyle’s torso and his fingers brushed a nipple and Kyle whimpered into his mouth and John was instantly growing hard again under his towel, grinning into Kyle’s lips, making a mental note to look into that more at a later date. 

He tilted his head in the opposite direction and kissed him more, the sounds filling the silent bathroom, a miracle that no one had barged in. 

“John,” Kyle murmured against John’s lips. John kept kissing him, humming in response. 

“If we keep doing this, I’m going to make a spectacle of myself on TV,” Kyle said, and John kissed his jaw, his neck and back up, back to his lips, unable to stop. 

“Can’t stop,” he said, and Kyle laughed against his mouth, putting a hand on the centre of John’s chest and pushing. 

“You’ll have to,” Kyle scolded, lips shiny with John’s tongue. “Go take a cold shower.” 

“If you give me a chance, I’m going to make it up to you,” John said, suddenly serious. “I’m going to show you how sorry I am.” 

“Alright, big man. You’re on.” 

John kissed him again, because he couldn’t not. He was beginning to think that he didn’t care if the cameras saw him having sex against the sinks when Kieran knocked the door and asked if he could come in, and the spell was broken. John stepped back from Kyle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and splashed some cold water on his face. 

He’d made his mistakes, but he was going to make them right.


	5. Chapter 5

Kyle woke John up by peppering his face with kisses, scratching gently at his stomach and rubbing his cheek against all available pieces of John’s skin. 

John came to with a smile, deeply satisfied and well rested, content. He was alight with happiness; bubbly fizzy warmth that sparkled in his belly and scorched up and down his arms and legs in a way that made him feel more alive than he had done for a long time. 

They went to the kitchen together and John could hardly make his brew for having hands on Kyle, murmuring that he’d always wanted to kiss him when he was sat on the counter, so inviting as he was. John kissed the taste of coffee out of Kyle’s mouth and rubbed the sleep from his eyes gently, all smiles and quiet laughter and roaming finger tips. 

“Your tea’s going to be cold,” Kyle said softly against the dip of John’s collar bone, proffered as it was by John inserting himself between Kyle’s thighs and mouthing along the side of his neck. “That’s a crime, letting your cuppa get cold.” 

John just answered him by brushing his lips against Kyle’s, not a kiss, but another way to touch, to be close. Kyle’s eyes were soft, and he raked a hand through John’s hair, scratching his blunt nails against the shorter crop at the base of his neck. “You’re like a touch starved horny teenager,” he teased fondly, and John laughed and pushed himself away, taking a deep breath, trying to think more clearly. 

He was being over the top, he knew. He could hardly recognise himself, but there was just something about their environment and the circumstances that were driving him crazy; having held back for so long and now knowing he could have Kyle but not fully, not with the cameras around them, it was driving him crazy. He sipped his lukewarm tea and allowed himself a thought about the future - he’d laughed at the idea of finding someone permanent through all this, but hey - he thought he could give this a go, once they were out. He’d like to try anyway, he’d like to see if it could last. He certainly wanted it to. 

“I like you,” was all he said, and Kyle didn’t respond with words but squeezed John’s elbow tight and took another gulp of coffee. 

— 

They were lounging in quiet contentment by the pool with the other lads when Jordan’s phone pinged and he shouted, “I’ve got a text!” They all sat up, alert. John silently hoped it was a date or a night in the hideaway for him and Kyle. 

“Islanders, what’s done is done but the past doesn’t always stay in the past - Dele and Kyle, get ready and go to the patio for a throwback Thursday you’ll never forget. #thingscouldgetawkward #ExOhExOh.” 

John’s stomach dropped. He whipped his head to look at Kyle, who was staring back at him behind his sunglasses with his mouth parted. The group were talking rapidly, all trying to determine the meaning of the text. 

“It has to be your exes,” Gareth mused. 

John searched Kyle’s face, wringing his hands. “Your ex?” 

Kyle shook his head. “I think I know who it would be. We’ve been split up for years...” 

“Friends?” 

“I suppose so. I don’t dislike the guy.” 

John looked over at Dele and Eric. Eric looked to be in turmoil, and Dele was trying to soothe him, whispering in a low voice things that only he could hear. John turned back to Kyle. 

“You better go get ready,” he said. Kyle kissed him on the cheek and went to collect Dele, clapping him on the shoulder and trying to coax him away. They had to get this over with. John dropped down next to Harry and let his head fall onto his shoulder, blind sided and suddenly very nervous. This was not how he had thought his day would go. 

— 

The couple of hours that Kyle was gone were torture. 

John couldn’t relax, couldn’t stop imagining what was happening. Would Kyle’s ex be good looking, better than John? If the guy wanted to give things a second shot, would Kyle agree? John thought he probably would if the shoe was on the other foot. That bloody sense of loyalty, it’d get him in trouble. 

Eric was worse. He wouldn’t stop pacing, up and down, back and forth, ignoring everyone’s efforts at reassurance. People kept asking John if he was alright, looking at him worriedly where he sat, staring into space whilst his mind whirred. 

“Both of yous need to unclench,” Jordan scolded them a while later. “They’re not going to come back in engaged to their fucking exes, are they?” 

“Alright, have a bit of compassion,” Harry countered. “Would you like it?” 

“I wouldn’t give a fuck. If they’re waiting to get back with an ex, probably wouldn’t have worked out in the first place would it?” 

John knew Jordan was right, but he couldn’t listen to rationality right then. He went into the bedroom and grabbed clothes, showered and took his time shaving, moisturising with some of Dele’s fancy cream that he figured he wouldn’t miss. 

They were approaching hour three when John heard a commotion in the garden and went outside apprehensively. It was early afternoon and half of the guys were dressed, the other half still in their swim gear. John joined them and watched as Kyle and Dele came back into the villa with two new men. 

Dele walked a little ahead of what John assumed was his ex, looking at the group and saying “guys, this is Fabian.” He sought out Eric and grabbed him, hugging him theatrically, leaving Fabian to greet people awkwardly. 

Kyle on the other hand was close by his date’s side. The guy was tall, blonde, impossibly handsome. John wanted to cry. “This is Joe,” Kyle said softly, putting a hand on Joe’s back and bringing him to where the group had congregated. “Be nice, fellas,” he added. John didn’t want to be nice. 

Joe shook hands and took names, coming to John eventually. John squeezed his hand a little too hard when they shook, staring him down not a little bit aggressively. “John,” he muttered. Joe just smiled, infuriatingly sweet. 

“Kyle’s told me a lot about you,” he said. John turned to Kyle, who was watching them with his arms crossed. 

“Hiya,” Kyle said gently, grinning at John. John tried to school his features but he couldn’t help the answering smile that came to his face, the infectious way it passed from Kyle to John like an electric current. 

“Y’alright?” John said in response, angling himself away from Joe and forcing him out of the conversation. “Good date?” 

Kyle put an arm around John’s waist and steered him off towards the swing seat, rubbing his thumb on John’s hip reassuringly. “He’s a good guy, Joe. We were together for a couple of years but we wanted different things. We got on, on the date like,” Kyle said. “I told him about you, that I’m happy with you,” he added. John nodded, staring at a point on the ground. 

“Been fucking feeling sick all afternoon,” John said. Kyle tutted and pulled him in for a hug by the back of the neck, laughing a little bit. 

“What you like, ey? Been after you for weeks and you think I’m likely to have my head turned now?” 

John shrugged. “Not like I wouldn’t deserve it, after all that with Ross. And you... he’s hot, your ex. Wouldn’t blame you.” 

Kyle nudged John up again and locked eyes with him. “Hey. There’s nothing to worry about, alright? It’s uncomfy, I know. But nothing to worry about. Understand?” 

“Alright,” John said reluctantly. 

“C’mon, come and meet him properly,” Kyle said as he got to his feet. “I think you’ll get along.” 

— 

They did not get along. 

John was being fucking petty about it really. Joe was funny and mature and completely normal, exactly the kind of person Kyle would’ve gone out with for years at a time. John didn’t like how easily the conversation flowed between the two of them, or even between Joe and the other islanders - he really fitted in, really got on with everyone. 

John was envious of the way Dele was dealing with the situation. He was draped over Eric in an obvious attempt at making him feel secure, giving exactly zero of his time and attention to his ex. Kyle on the other hand was thick as thieves with Joe, showing him around the villa and once or twice laughing uproariously at something that John didn’t catch. 

His face was tripping him, he knew. This was not his finest moment. Kyle kept stealing glances at him, looking over at Gareth conspiratorially. John hated that - he was capable of deciding how he felt without needing Gareth to counsel him on it. 

He pulled Eric aside and asked how he was feeling. Eric said he wasn’t pleased but he wasn’t too fussed either; there was nothing to worry about. Dele had assured him he didn’t have to worry. 

John had then gone to the smoking area and took a couple of draws of a cigarette from Jordan, hoping it’d soothe him a bit, but it just gave him nicotine rush and a headache. 

“Can’t believe he’s so fit,” John groaned. Jordan shook his head. 

“He’s alright, like, but you’re better,” he said, eyebrows furrowed. “Stop getting yourself all worked up. You and Kyle are proper solid.” 

“But what if the lad tries to get back with him? He’s putting in a decent bit of graft if you ask me.” 

“What you sitting here moping for then? Get over there, show the guy who’s boss.” 

John nodded at Jordan, listening to him. “You’re fucking right,” he said, standing up. “Cheers, Jord.” Jordan waved a hand in acknowledgement and watched as John marched across the garden, squeezed past Harry and that new kid Fabian and inserted himself next to Kyle, all but clambering on top of him and glaring at Joe. 

John put a hand on Kyle’s thigh and listened as Harry spoke about something boring, looking pointedly at Joe who was innocently watching Harry talk. 

“Sup?” Kyle asked, trying his hardest not to laugh. John just smiled at him and then laughed exaggeratedly at whatever Harry had just said, which earned him a few funny looks. Kyle leaned in close and put his mouth to John’s ear. “Stop. Worrying.” He whispered. 

John looked round and kissed him, squeezed his thigh tighter, and Kyle allowed him to. Joe could try it, but John was going to put up a fight, of that he was certain. 

 

—— 

Joe got a text the next morning that there would be a recoupling - he and Fabian’s choice. 

There was no one that wasn’t coupled up, so whoever they chose they’d be disappointing someone. John’s stomach was churning with fear and he didn’t realise how tight he was squeezing Kyle’s arm until Kyle prised him off and took his face in his hand and said, “John! Fucking hell!” 

“He’s going to pick you,” John whined in private, away from where anyone could hear his paranoia. “He’s going to fucking pick you.” 

“If he does then so what? It’s still you I want to be with. Doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Doesn’t - it means everything! Are you joking?” 

Kyle threw his hands up in frustration, blowing air out from his clenched teeth. “I didn’t ask for him to come in here! I’m not looking to get back with my ex, even if we get on. We’re grown ups! We’re civil! You’re worrying so much, John, and it’s worrying me. Stop, will you, ey?” 

John nodded and scrubbed a hand down his face, said he was going for a swim. He was doing laps when he saw Joe pull Kyle to the side, probably to discuss the recoupling. John swam furiously, until his arms and legs burned, and he couldn’t swim any longer. 

He pulled himself up and out, his muscles quivering. John pushed his hair back and glanced over at Joe and Kyle again, stomach knotting. God, this show was the worst; the whole premise was the worst. 

John was rifling through the refrigerator when Dele came into the kitchen and asked how he was doing. John shrugged. He was fine, just a ball of anxiety; nothing crazy. He relayed that to Dele, who smiled sympathetically. 

“I feel well bad for you and Eric. Fucking out of order, bringing in the exes. Messes with your head dunnit?” 

“Fucking right it does. Do you think Fabian will go for you?” 

Dele shook his head. “I’d be astonished if he did. I told him I didn’t want to be coupled up with him and that he’d be wasting his time if he tried it. He’s trying to graft Marcus now, have you seen him? Don’t think he’ll get far there, either. Everyone’s pretty solid in their couples.” 

John took a handful of raw carrots and munched on them, thinking. “They should bring in more single people. This isn’t fair, m’sure it doesn’t make for great telly, either. I always hated reality TV, me. Dunno why they play games like this.” 

John half expected to be pulled to the side by the producers for his comments, but nothing came of it. Dele eventually moseyed off and John was washing dishes with Jesse when Kyle finally came over, sitting down at the table and inspecting his nails whilst John worked. 

John finished the last plate and came to sit opposite Kyle, knees knocking under the table. “So?” He said, gently. Kyle kept looking down at his hands. 

“He asked me what I’d think if he chose me tonight.” 

“And?” 

“I told him I thought we should try and be mates and see if we could manage that. I told him that I’m really into you and I don’t want to get to know anyone else like that.” 

“Did you say, like explicitly - no?” 

Kyle looked up, irritated. “Not that word, nah.” 

John rolled his eyes in disbelief and leaned backwards, shaking his head. “Dele told Fabian categoric no! Don’t even consider it, I don’t want you, NO.” 

“For fuck - so did I! I told him I wanted you!” 

“That’s not no!” 

Kyle pushed up and moved from the table, clearly frustrated. “You’re being impossible, John,” he snapped, marching in the direction of the villa. 

John thought about going and telling Joe to back off himself, but thought that wasn’t classy and wasn’t bound to end well. He was frustrated and worried and upset, scared Kyle was going to piss off the way Ross had. He didn’t think it was unreasonable to worry, but Kyle was so annoyed with him, so unwilling to see why John couldn’t let it go. 

John ended up exactly where he said he wouldn’t - his head in Gareth’s lap, his feet in Harry’s, letting his mind drift off as Gareth messed around with his hair and Harry placed a warm weight on his left ankle. He didn’t open up for a counselling session, though, so he took that as a win. They didn’t press him, and for that he was grateful. 

— 

John showered and dressed and went to congregate at the fire pit like a man walking to the gallows. Kyle had largely kept his distance all afternoon, spending a lot of time on his own and giving John a chaste kiss on the cheek when they’d crossed paths on the stairs an hour before. John didn’t know what was going on in Kyle’s head, but he decided to give him space. It would do no good to suffocate him. 

Still, when he took his place beside Kyle on the chair, he sat close, touching wherever he could. If these were to be their last few moments as a couple, he’d enjoy them. Kyle smiled at him warmly, squeezed his hand. 

John took a deep breath and squeezed back. They looked up at Joe and Fabian in unison. 

“The boy I want to couple up with,” Joe began, “is someone I want to get to know even better, if that makes sense, because I think we could have something nice. I’ve not had a long time to make my decision and it hasn’t been an easy one for me. But it’s Love Island and I’ve come here to see what could potentially happen. So I’d like to couple up with Kyle.” 

No one was surprised, not really. Kyle put a hand around John’s shoulders and hugged him, kissed him on the forehead, tried to communicate something silently. John just sat there impassively and said nothing, did nothing. He was scared that if he opened his mouth he’d start shouting, shouting at Kyle for not listening to him, at Joe for being a snake. 

It was as if in a dream that he heard Fabian mumble something about choosing John to couple up with because everyone else was taken. John just kept sitting there, and eventually Fabian joined him in the spot that Kyle had just been sat. 

The formalities were soon over. Eric and Jordan came straight over to John and spoke in low voices about it not being the end of the world, Joe having a decision to make, Kyle being into John, etc etc etc. John just shrugged and smiled sadly. “It is what it is, right?” 

Eventually Kyle came over and motioned with his head for the boys to leave. He pulled John in and held him tight. “It’s not a big deal,” he said gently. “I know it feels like a big deal, but it isn’t. It doesn’t change things between us.” 

“You should’ve told him no,” was all John said, not hugging Kyle back. “If you want him back then I won’t stand in your way.” 

Kyle let go of John and growled in irritation. “Stop being so fucking melodramatic,” he said, abnormally aggressive. “You’re pissing me off.” 

John didn’t want to argue, so he walked away, ignoring Kyle’s shouts of his name behind him. He walked past Joe, who said “John, mate,” and ignored him too. 

John went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth with his hand so tight around the brush he nearly bent it in half. He hauled himself to the little diary room and although he always felt silly in there, talking to a camera, he ended up venting for ages, a good thirty minutes, maybe more. He cried a little bit because he was tired and he missed his mum and he didn’t want to lose Kyle but that was how it was heading. 

He felt a bit better after his rant, and when he went back down the stairs everyone else was getting ready for bed, the bedroom falling silent when he walked in. John grabbed his personalised water bottle and walked right past his old bed and the one he was supposed to now share with Fabian and made for the day beds outside. There was no sign of Kyle, and he didn’t expect to be joined, not after earlier. John pulled the duvet over his head and squeezed his eyes shut, tried to block out the sound of the crickets chirping in the fields around the garden. 

“John?” 

John held his breath. It was Kyle, somewhere behind the bed. John hoped he’d go away, but also hoped he’d never leave him alone again. Nothing happened, there was no more noise, and John’s heart began to sink - until the duvet was suddenly lifted up, and Kyle was sliding across the mattress, looking at John like he was an exasperating but loveable dog, pulling him close as best he could given the sheer size of him. 

“Hey, don’t get yourself upset,” Kyle soothed, and John realised he was crying, big gulping tears that would definitely give him a headache in the morning. 

“I don’t want you to be with someone else,” he whined. 

Kyle sat up and threw the duvet off them, getting out of the bed and putting out a hand for John to take. John looked at him suspiciously, unsure where they were going. Still, he trusted Kyle, so he got up and wiped his eyes, stumbling a bit as Kyle pulled him confidently towards the bedroom. 

Kyle opened the bedroom door and peered into the darkness. “Harty?” 

A shape sat up in a bed to their right. “Yeah?” 

“It’s a no, alright? An explicit no. You’re great but I don’t have feelings for you, I’m not interested in anyone else right now. Sound?” 

Joe snorted. “Bit dramatic, Kyle.” 

“Yeah, well.” 

“Course that’s sound. You already told me.” 

“I know, but - “ 

“Kyle, mate, are you going to tell everyone in the fucking villa you don’t fancy them or can I get some quiet so I can sleep?” Marcus said, and John started backing out of the door frame, pulling Kyle, who held up a hand and shouted ‘night everyone!’ into the darkness. 

They closed the bedroom door, and John tilted his head down as he tried his best not to smile, looking at Kyle with his eyebrows raised. “Oh Kyle,” he said, and Kyle blinked at him fondly. 

“Was that clear enough for you?” 

“I dunno, he might think - “ 

“Shut up,” Kyle laughed, kissing John on the lips once, twice, three times in quick succession. 

They went to the day bed, got settled under the covers, kissed for a while. John went to sleep with an innate feeling of sheer dumb luck. 

— 

The following day was better, infinitely better. 

John and Jordan entertained themselves by playing pranks on the other islanders, fucking around with everyone - toast on toothpaste for Eric’s breakfast, salt in Fabian’s tea, the laces on Jesse’s shoes tied together - until Gareth pissed over the cling filmed toilet and shouted at them to stop it immediately. 

They had a poker tournament that night, and Kyle and John got into the daybed after it, beer tipsy and thrumming with the warmth of the day’s sunshine, kissing hungrily and dry humping like teenagers, unable to summon up any kind of decorum or self control. 

John licked into Kyle’s mouth, the taste of Corona, and slid one of his long legs in between Kyle’s muscular brown ones, pressing down timidly, groaning when Kyle met him back. John’s whole body was alive with want, his nipples tingling for touch, his lower body on fire. 

“I want to fuck you,” John mouthed, and Kyle whined in response, bringing a hand to John’s arse and clutching at him desperately. 

“Living in this place with you so close is torture,” Kyle whispered. “This is my own version of hell.” 

“If you pushed me even a little bit further I’d lose every shred of my dignity, right now,” John said, and Kyle laughed. 

“Your mum will never accept me if I do a thing like that.” 

John seized that thought, thinking about his family so that he’d be less turned on and more sensible. 

It was hard - both the situation, and John and Kyle - but they fell asleep at last, under the stars and the watchful eyes of half of the United Kingdom. 

— 

The next day included tea, coffee, swimming and an obstacle course that Marcus and Jesse won by a mile. 

Things were good, quiet - John knew that something was coming, some kind of drama, but he hoped it’d be targeted at someone else. He’d done his fair share of content creating for the Love Island producers, he thought. 

Still, it was a shock to the system when Caroline Flack rang the front door bell later that night. It was a cold shock of ice down John’s spine, a head spinning realisation - someone was going home. 

He was in a bad position, so was Kyle. They were coupled up with people they weren’t with romantically, and he still had no idea how things were portrayed to the public. John sat down in the usual place, white as a sheet, Fabian coming to sit beside him a bit awkwardly. 

John looked across at Kyle, puffed his cheeks and breathed out the air. Kyle nodded at him to be strong, to relax. John couldn’t stop biting his nails. 

“The public have been voting for the couple they want to leave the island,” Caroline started. “The couple with the most votes will have thirty minutes to pack their bags, and must leave the island immediately.” 

John took a deep breath. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. 

“Harry and Gareth, you’re safe.

“Jordan and Kieran, you are the second couple safe.

“Marcus and Jesse, you will stay on the island.

“Eric and Dele - you’re both safe. 

“That leaves Kyle and Joe, and John and Fabian - boys, how are you feeling?” 

John said nothing as the realisation sunk in - either he or Kyle would be gone. They were about to be separated. This was it. Fabian said something about wishing he’d had more time, wanting a fairer chance. Joe said he had no regrets. Kyle said nothing, staring at John. 

“John, Kyle - one of you is about to go home. Have you got anything to say?” 

“This is bullshit,” Kyle snapped. Caroline moved swiftly on. 

“The couple with the highest amount of votes and therefore dumped from the island is - Kyle and Joe.” 

John let out a wail, running to Kyle and clinging to him, refusing to let go even as the other islanders tried to gather round to say their goodbyes. 

“You can’t - I can’t be here without you - “ 

“It’s okay John, I’ll wait for you, alright? I’ll wait - “ 

“No, no, no, this isn’t fair - Joe, thanks a fucking lot! You selfish - “ 

Gareth put an arm around John’s neck and hooked him away, hissing in his ear. “That won’t fucking help, Stones. Stop it,” 

“This isn’t on, it’s not fair,” John sobbed, hyperventilating. “He can’t go,” he moaned, as Kyle resignedly said goodbye to the other lads, trying to get back to John. 

Kyle took him from Gareth and shushed him, tears in his own eyes, a bit in shock. “C’mon and help me pack my stuff, John, let’s go,” he said, and John let himself be lead but he was crying and babbling rubbish and looking around for someone who worked on this show so that he could explode in their face. 

Kyle packed his bags with shaking hands, silent but for John’s gasps for air. 

“It should’ve been me,” he cried, and Kyle snapped his head up. 

“Stop it, I’m not dying,” he said in a level voice. “You have to calm down.” 

John opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, sitting instead with his bottom lip pushed out and his arms wrapped around himself. Kyle zipped his suitcase and pushed it to the door, where everyone was waiting to see them off. 

Kyle said goodbye again, then came back to John and grabbed his face with both hands. “I like you so, so much. I’ll be there on the outside waiting, alright? I’ve waited an age for you already, a bit more wont hurt.” He kissed John on the lips, wiped away some tears. “Look after him lads, ey?” 

Then he was leaving, pushing his suitcase up the path. He turned to look back at the top of the driveway, and then he was gone. 

John collapsed against Harry and cried and cried and then he tore through the house dramatically, crying and whingeing like Cathy on the moors calling for Heathcliff until Dele looked at him pointedly and said - “You do know you can just walk out as well?” 

John looked up from where he was smelling the dishcloth Kyle had used to dry his hands that morning and said “What?” 

“You can walk out the door now and go and be with him. People did it all the time on past series.” 

“They did?” 

“Do you not watch Love Island?!” 

“It’s not my cup of tea, no.” 

Dele looked incredulously at the other spectators in the kitchen, eyes bulging. 

“For fucks sake, John - yes, you can go,” he said disgustedly. “And take your award winning Broadway show with you.” 

John looked at Gareth, who was nodding, and Jordan, who was smirking. He scrambled up and said “Alright then - see you later, lads.” They all grabbed him for a hug, a big group hug with sad laughter and well wishes, and accompanied him to the front door, which he marched out of with a spring in his step. 

— 

John burst into the white tents of backstage, if you could call it that, with the air of a bird who’s gotten stuck inside a house. 

Everyone looked up from their computers and monitors and phones in surprise and John shouted “Where’s Kyle?” 

No one moved for a second, then someone came over and put a hand on his back and steered him towards another tent, a green room of sorts, where Kyle and Joe were waiting to be transported to a hotel for the night. 

Kyle shot up, eyes red like he’d just stopped crying himself. “What the fuck!” 

John leapt on him, heart thumping, and that was it - they were out of Love Island, out of the competition and soon to be out of Spain - but they were no longer out of time, and that was all that mattered. 

— 

They were booked into a hotel near the airport. John had been reprimanded by the producers for just flouncing out without any warning, and they’d had to send some assistants into the villa to gather his things for him. He had to give an interview to camera about why he’d left and then there was a ton of paper work and other admin type stuff that he had to deal with, but he was beside Kyle the whole time, so it wasn’t too bad. 

They’d been given separate rooms but John didn’t even go to his, instead turning in with Kyle. John was making a point of ignoring Joe, and Kyle had grunted a hurried ‘g’night’ at him before he closed the hotel room door. 

Kyle and John wasted no time in enjoying their privacy. 

Their teeth clacked together multiple times before John managed to tug his t-shirt over his head, and then he was tearing at Kyle’s, irritated by it and its presence. They didn’t make it to the bed, instead collapsing to the floor and greedily exploring with mouths, tongues, fingers, until John was a flushed and whimpery mess on the rug in front of the bed and Kyle was raiding through his bag for a condom like he was against some invisible countdown clock. 

Kyle kept trying to be gentle with John who only wanted it rough, complaining that he couldn’t feel anything and he wanted to be manhandled. It was counterintuitive to Kyle, who thought John was something that should be cared for and treat delicately, but he gave in to John’s demands and put a hand around his throat and drilled him and then Kyle decided he’d never treat John gently in bed ever again, not when that was the pay off. 

They did everything they could think of, coming as many times as they could, wanting to be as close as it was possible to be. 

When John recalled that night in the future, he wouldn’t remember if they’d even slept. Just a blur of sex and kisses and touching and laughter, so much of it - the thing that defined their relationship and made it what it was. John had to keep asking Kyle to stop laughing and be serious but he was just as bad, just as giggly and smitten. 

—

John paraded through Palma airport the following day covered in bruises and big, purple marks all over his neck and had never felt like more of a trophy. He was a big, smug, happy idiot, he decided. That was fine by him. 

Their flight was reaching its desired altitude and John turned to Kyle and said, as genuinely as he could - “I’m so glad I lost that bet and ended up on TV. I’m so glad I met you.” 

Kyle told him not to be such a sap. John kissed him, then opened the inflight duty free catalogue, and wondered what he could buy with all the money he’d saved from his summer spent in a Spanish villa, with a bunch of men who together, John thought, made a pretty nice team. 

Then it occurred to him. John sat up ram rod straight and pressed the hostess button, his knee jumping. He couldn’t believe it had slipped his mind. One of the staff members came down the aisle, leaning over and smiling at him politely. John looked her dead in the eyes. 

“Sorry love - but how did England do in the World Cup?!” 

——— 

SIX WEEKS LATER 

Eric and Dele went on to win Love Island. The final was a complete love fest and, on hearing their names announced as the winners, Eric dropped to one knee and proposed to Dele. They haven’t set a date but they plan to return to Mallorca to tie the knot. 

Harry and Gareth were Love Island’s runners up. They are still together, and plan to move into Gareth’s Notting Hill flat in the winter. 

Jordan and Kieran are no longer together, but remain good friends. Jordan’s dance track “Get the Rave On” hit number 9 on the UK singles chart. He is working on an album to follow. 

Marcus and Jesse have gone travelling in Asia together. The last post Jesse made on Instagram 3 weeks ago was of Marcus on the beach from The Beach, drinking from a bucket of cocktail. 

Ruben and Hendo did not stay together after the show, stating that their relationship was more of a physical thing than anything else. Ruben is tipped to be going on I’m A Celebrity later this year. 

Ross and Harry Maguire are still together, promoting teeth whitening products on Instagram and arguing with people on Twitter. They have both stated that they are “extremely happy”. 

John and Kyle remain together. John gushed when reporting that Kyle has met his family and gets along with them well. John left his job at the call centre and took up football coaching with Kyle. They have opened up a centre for troubled kids to find an outlet through the beautiful game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this!! You are the beeest, whoever you are, wherever you are. See you on the next one! Xxx

**Author's Note:**

> www.belle-laid.tumblr.com


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